Pain of Love Lasts a Lifetime
by fellow-traveller
Summary: One painful night. That was all it took for Ludwig's life to spiral down into hopelessness. AU RusGer, hinted RusAme *Warning* includes mpreg, male-futanari, violence, depression, mental and health problems, heavy angst and drama. May change your views and beliefs in your life. Don't even start reading if you're not up for it.
1. Nightmares have no pain

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A bad dream…it was just a bad dream.

It was just like the time when you were a kid, when you think you saw a boogeyman coming out of the closet before you sleep and you would scream awake, calling for your parents' aid. But as you grow older you learnt that the monster was no different than the shadows of the moonlight playing tricks in your mind. Telling you that the boogeyman is still there, locked in the closet, waiting for the right time to sink its teeth into your flesh…but when you get older, you woke up to emptiness. No one was there, and you knew no one was there. You sighed in relief and tell yourself…just a bad dream.

Oh, God. How I wished it was just that.

My nightmares don't always happen in the dark. They came in every time, even in broad daylight. And now the nightmare was dragging me to hell under the dim lighting of the bedside lamps. Funny. I didn't even think that I had the courtesy to dim it down to complete darkness, or put it on the highest level to brighten up the room.

The lights were blinding me.

It only added a beautiful touch to the panic and frustration I was feeling at the moment.

Nightmares have no other emotions but fear, and the need to survive or scream for help. Yes, that should be the things that nightmares do to you. That is why kids scream when they see the hideous creatures in their dreams. That is why people woke up sweating in the middle of the night, looking around them with wide eyes to make sure they are still floating in reality.

But pain…nightmares have no pain.

Why am I feeling it now, then? Why was it so painful?

My body was tired and I couldn't scream anymore. The nightmare had driven me to complete terror and shock, of which had drained me off my energy to do anything but lay there on the bed, my chest heaving rapidly and heavily, so was the beating of my heart inside it…wishing that it was just a bad dream. Praying that in any minute, I would be waking up, drenched in my own sweat and laughing for making myself look like a fool to no one.

But the lights were still blinding me. And the pain didn't wear down at all.

The pain kept on building up and I knew, somewhere inside me, a deep tear was made. And with every movement I was forced upon, the pain just kept escalating. It was wounding the cut with every passing moment…and all I could do was whimper and cry whenever my nerves sent pain signals to my brain.

Screaming for help? Running away from the demons that gave me the fright? Yes, I would have done so. I would love to do it and escape from this bad dream.

If only I wasn't held down with a weight heavier than mine.

If only my wrists were not locked in a tight bruising grip with hands bigger than mine.

If only my mouth wasn't stuffed with a piece of underwear. And God, it reeked of urine and my mouth went too dry with the cloth absorbing my saliva. My muffled moans and sobs were drowned by continuous grunts and low growls, occasionally intertwined with the squeaking of the bed.

I knew I didn't make the grunting sounds. No. It wasn't me.

The lights were blinding me more.

There was someone else; right above my body. A man, much stronger and larger than me, not to mention he was heavier too. He had shifted his weight fully on my torso, his hairy chest pressed on my smooth, sweaty ones; exposed when my shirt was cogently tore open the first second I was pushed down by those powerful hands.

You would have laughed at me for not fighting back. You would have ridiculed me for not being able to push him off my body.

Yes, physically, I do look strong. I have larger muscle mass than any of my other friends. I know I could stop him…but where had my strength gone to when dread and surprise took over my whole being? When my face was locked with his punches to a point my head spun and my coordination went haywire? When my love for this man overwhelmed the bad things he would do on me?

I could do nothing to stop him. Not even the blinding lights…

His body covered and revealed the bedside lamps from my view. It was like looking through an epileptic flashes from a television or the blinker on a car when the alarm blew off, only in excruciatingly slow motions. And with every blink of my tear-filled eyes, with every thrust of pain into my entrance, with every growl of his drunken voice as he forced himself into that extremely tight space of my lower body...my mind realized too late that I would be doomed for eternity.

A dark permanent mark had slashed its way into my life.

I wanted to faint in my defeat. Lost into the darkness, without any emotions to feel, without any ache to endure…I couldn't bear the torture. Nightmares shouldn't have any pain.

My head hurt. My body hurt.

The spot where our bodies connected…that hurt the most.

And I could do nothing to stop him.

They said that, a drunken man speaks a sober heart. I tried to grasp on that belief, tried to convince myself that he actually loved me despite being overly drunk of his vodka. This was his honest self. This was what he wanted to do to me. With me.

This was just another way he showed his love to someone…even if the pain made me wished it ended quicker. Yes, why else would he force himself on me? Why else would he…push himself roughly into my body? It is an act of love, wasn't it? He should love me enough to do this. That was what I read in the book, what I watched in the movies…

But why…?

His thrusts were getting rougher and the sound of our skin slapping was getting louder. My sobs died down while his grunts only built up even more. It's almost done…

Why was he calling the wrong name…? My name isn't…

"Alfred…Alfred…Alfred…"

A bad dream. Nothing but a bad dream.

He gave out a loud groan and let go off his pleasure into me. I should have protested to this, it was only normal to do so in this case. I felt the sticky heat filling inside me, it was odd…but I seemed to ignore it. I was too shocked…or sad, you could say…to hear him saying that name…over and over again. Even after he pumped himself empty and let gravity pull his weight on top of me once again, that name never left his lips as he repeated it again in soft, tired whispers.

My name isn't Alfred.

They said that…the more a person is intoxicated, the more secrets were to leave his mouth. Everything from the heart would be unveiled; every word of it was true…

It hurt.

To know someone whom I loved with all my heart, the man I didn't managed to say how much I cared for him…to hear him calling that name as he grinned in satisfaction…What exactly did he see? What exactly did he see when he pounded into me mercilessly? What exactly did he see on this bruised and bloodied face, in these teary eyes that helplessly begged him to stop?

It was too late. I didn't managed to tell him that I love him, to tell him that I wanted to be his lover…to tell him how much I wanted him to be a part of my life. A good part of my life. But the dark mark had deepened and it was too late.

I felt his hands relaxed their clutch on my wrists and he nuzzled his nose at the cleavage of my neck. This was the best moment if I was to run away from him, to struggle and push this man off me…but I couldn't. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I was too shocked, too frustrated. Too heartbroken to move a limb. And I started to cry again.

Not for my broken life, not for my perished dignity…

He doesn't love me. He loved someone else.

It hurt so much.

The man heard my silent weeping and he looked up, his violet eyes blurred with the drunken stupor he was in. He grinned and smoothed down my hair, entangling his fingers in between the strands. I couldn't look into his eyes any further. There was a tight knot in my chest, and by God, if I didn't had that little vigor to push that hurting feeling inside, I would have simply died of the heartache and breathlessness.

"Was it good, Alfred? It was, wasn't it? I told you I can do it good. I know how to do it better…than anyone else…"

Oh, God. Help me. I couldn't look into his eyes anymore.

"Mmmh…I love you, Alfred. I love you so much…" he mumbled in his drunkenness and continued to nuzzle my neck.

And I kept on crying. My name isn't Alfred.

"Do you love me, Alfred? Alfred? Tell me you love me…tell me you love me, please, Alfred?"

Help me. I couldn't bear it all. No…no, I couldn't…

"Tell me, Alfred…"

No. No, I couldn't…it hurt.

"_**TELL ME**, YOU GOD DAMNED PIECE OF SHIT!"_

My hair was tugged fiercely and I found myself gasping in surprise as I was hauled up from the bed slightly. A big fist came down to my already bruised cheek, and I was pushed back onto the mattress. I opened my closed eyes in utter shock, breathing heavily again as a new set of pain pricked my every senses. Another came to my other cheek, and it forced me to spit out the gag in my mouth. Then another went to the other cheek before. And another. And another. And another.

I whimpered aloud and tried to push him off my body despite the heavy sting on my bruised wrists…at least, I tried to stop him from pounding his fists on my face. My head hurt so bad with every punch and all I wanted was him to stop hitting me. But he took my defiance as an insult and he shifted on my stomach, and continued to ram his fists onto my face.

My nose broke…so were my cheekbones. Blood spurted out from my nostrils and the cuts made on my lips. I tried to cover my face from his assault, but to no avail; he only managed to pull my arms free and continued.

This wasn't a nightmare. Nightmares have no pain.

This was reality.

One final punch and I was left gushing out blood from my mouth, weeping to the torture and the agony. I felt his weight lifted off from my stomach, and I turned to my side. I didn't want him to see me like this…weak and defeated, but the ache on my face and in between my legs limited my movements, and all I could do was hide my tears in the folds of the sheets. I could sense his violet eyes eyeing me, as if he was waiting for me to say something.

_Tell me, Alfred…_

"….I'm not…I'm not Alfred…Ih…Ivan…I'm not…" I whispered coarsely in between my moans. I mustered up what courage I still had and tried to look him in the eye. I was heartbroken, so heartbroken. No, the abuse I endured was nothing compared to the feeling I felt…when he called a name that doesn't belong to me.

He doesn't love me…

My words weren't pleasant to his ears. I knew. The look in his eyes stirred deeper into the abyss and I knew he was angry at me. Whether or not he understood what I said in his inebriated mind, it didn't matter. He was very angry and I knew I couldn't escape from his clutches anymore.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and with a swift move he drove my forehead to the bedside lamp. The light was blinding me, but it went off as the bulb smashed against my skin, giving it small cuts as the glass went into it. I groaned weakly, but before I could breath, he shoved my head to the edge of the table. A deeper wound was made and blood burst out of it, blinding one of my eyes with redness.

I tumbled down to the floor face first. My head was like in a whirlpool and for a few seconds, I lost coordination of my body. I cried and whimpered with my hoarse voice, trying to move from the bed…from this drunken man. I stretched my arms out and dug my fingers into the carpet, trying to crawl away to safety.

I felt like I was about to be dragged into the closet by a boogeyman…dragged into the darkness forever.

He came near. And the first thing he did was kicking my abdomen, hard. I cried out, but my voice was empty and silent. I whimpered more, looking at him, wanting to beg for mercy…Another kick came in and the third kick hit my solar plexus. Pain came stabbing into my body once more and I couldn't breath. I choked. I quickly attempted to inhale, but it was so difficult.

My guard was down completely. And I didn't anticipate his next move.

He grabbed my arm and twisted it. I choked again, when I felt the pain jutting in my shoulder and that I couldn't move my arm. I took a quick glance, fearing that he might have mutilated my limb, but I only saw a second bump at where my shoulder should have been. He had dislocated it.

I screamed in wheezes. My voice just wouldn't come out in full blast.

No one would know I needed help. No one would know I was in pain.

While I was desperately gasping for the heavenly air and whimpering in the never-ending pain, he took the chance to pull me up again. I was expecting him to kick or punch me, but instead he bent me over on the bed, my hips held high by his massive hands. I grabbed the sheets in a tight fist with my good hand and shut my eyes tightly, still trying to breathe, as I waited for the inevitable.

I felt the large blunt tip of his blood-moistened phallus entering my body once again; this time into the tiny, almost invisible opening in between my scrotum and my violated anus. No one knew about that most secret part of my body, and I wasn't sure whether it was just a lottery hit on his trial and error, or that he knew that it could exist on my anatomy. I gritted my teeth and clenched on the sheets harder. The push was extremely painful and I felt like I was about to be split into two.

I cried and whimpered even more. I could do nothing to stop him.

It hurt.

"Alfred…Alfred…I love you…I know you love me too…See? I love you a lot, Alfred." He whispered into my ear lovingly. He was still drunk. His words were supposedly futile…but not for me.

A drunken man speaks a sober heart.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt…

"I'm not Alfred…" I croaked; just as I managed to inhale and exhale again. Tears never failed to leave my eyes. "Ih-Ivan…I'm not…I'm not Alfred…"

His thrusts quickened and I could feel the hole tore wider, blood flowing out in what space was left between it and his shaft. I whimpered at the sudden speed and bit on the sheets as hard as I could, no matter if the action was hurting the bruises and cuts on my face. Oh, God. How I wished it was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream.

"Alfred, tell me you love me too…"

No. My name isn't Alfred…

I loved him. I loved him so much. But I was too late.

"I'm…I'm Ludwig, Ivan…I'm L-Ludwig…" I whispered; my voice partially muffled behind the sheets that I bit, partially muffled by my intense sobs.

He didn't seem to hear me, nor did he understand what I was saying. He kept on pounding into me without pity, without remorse and I kept on crying. I lost my virginity to the man I loved but in a wrong way. I was beaten by the man I loved but he didn't comfort me after the abuse. I was told love confessions by the man I loved but he said the wrong name…

It hurt. Too much; it hurt.

Hell went on infinitely for me that night; shut in a room and out from the rest of the world. After the second round, he continued the cycle of beating me up again, asking Alfred to say that he loves him too. But my name isn't Alfred. And as I didn't say the reply he desired, he would repeat the sexual act on my body in both maltreated entrances in between my legs, in different positions, in different spots of the room…The harassment and abuse went on for hours and only when I told him that I loved him too, did he stopped.

He finally stopped and rested next to me on the floor. Within minutes he was already fast asleep, the tiredness visible on his innocent face. The only thing I could do was to stare at the ceiling, dim lit with the remaining bedside lamp in the room. I waited for the man to completely drift away, before I could get up and wash myself clean, wear my clothes and drive home before the first light. If only I could get up…

The lights will blind me forever.

Yes, I told him I love him. I really do love him. But he didn't hear me say it. For him, it wasn't me who said those words "I love you too". He only heard Alfred. Not me.

My name is Ludwig. Not Alfred.

And this was reality.

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**A/N:** _A story that I must set free from the insides of my head. Yes, it is...somewhat angst-y. Far more depressing than my other stories. And yes, you should know by now I loved to torture that poor German. I'm so sorry, Ludwig..._;w;_  
No. I'm not a fan of RusAme, if that's what you had been wondering...  
_

_Also, I am not sure about how to end this story. Probably I'll get the idea once I move on with it..._


	2. Let everything heal itself

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Two and a half weeks.

That was how long it took for the discoloration on my face, wrists and neck to wear down. At least, they didn't look black and blue anymore and a little make-up would hide them perfectly. The only bandaged part of my body was my forehead and nose, and my dislocated left arm was hung on a sling. But those would heal too in no time. Probably the only thing that might need a few weeks more of getting better was my limped stride.

I consider it a good luck that I didn't have to attend any meetings with any of my colleagues for another month or two. I had my own excuses for the nose and the arm, but nothing came to mind to explain about my slow, careful steps when I walk. Obviously I couldn't tell people what really happened...I couldn't give up the last scrape of my dignity just like that, nor could I give away the name of the person who did this to me.

It's best to just keep quiet about the event. Let everything heal itself.

But no one would want to fight their curiosity if they saw the way I was walking; sluggish and hitching, as if the bones of one of my legs were turned into mush and I was dragging it behind me. Eventually they would want to dig in for answers and answers were the things I am not willing to give to them willingly.

Walking was a painful feat; I had to admit; even if it was only to get to the bathroom from my bed. The first few days since my visit to the hospital were horrible. I couldn't take one step further without crying at the pain and my good shoulder would always trail the wall just in case my legs became paralyzed in the middle of my journey. It didn't happen so far, and God, was I grateful for that.

To defecate was even worse. It was torturing.

In the morning after that unfortunate incident, I forced myself to get out of that room and the only place I had in my mind was to see a doctor. I was bleeding, I was bruised…there was no way I could treat myself even if I had the basic knowledge on first aid. The process of getting up and walking to the bathroom was hell of its own, and as pathetic as it seemed, I winced and grimaced to the pain the entire time.

Humiliation; it was all I felt when I made my way, slowly, into the bathroom and I suddenly lost control of my bowels. I tried to walk faster but my legs just couldn't move fast enough…and I finally emptied it on the bathroom floor, inches away from the toilet bowl. I whimpered silently at the unbearable sting and went down to my knees, shaking almost violently at the agony of the accidental action.

It was torturing, as I push out the dirty mess; tainted in my own blood and his semen; out of my anus.

Cold sweat broke free off my forehead and I swore I would have passed out by then. All the aching on my tired body was making me totally weak. But I couldn't afford to risk getting caught in such a disgrace; fainted on the bathroom floor, naked with a lump of bloody feces in between my legs. I gathered what strength I had and continued to clean myself up, as well as the mess I did.

It took hours to do everything, to freshen up…and I felt lucky that the man who assaulted me; the man I loved; was still asleep on the floor.

I should have just left him sleeping there and escape while I could. I should have escaped this hellhole before he wakes up or before someone decided to barge into the room. Yet…I don't know what came to me when I pulled the blanket from the crumpled mess of the bed and covered him with it. It was my initial purpose when I brought him into the room...he complained of a headache after he threw up on the kitchen floor, and me, being the only sober person in the house, took the effort to carry him to a bed.

Who would have known in his drunkenness he would lock the door and forced me into a deep kiss...a kiss I thought was willing and mutual before he tugged open my shirt harshly and punched me in the face. Who would have known I would get raped as a payment for my kind intentions of comforting someone...

For what he had done to me, he didn't deserve such comfort. Truly, he didn't.

Nevertheless...

I still remembered; his ash blonde hair, drenched in his own sweat, stapled on his forehead. His long eyelashes glistened beautifully under the soft sun rays that crept from the windows, his nose still owned the visible blush of his ordeal the night before and his lips swollen from all the kisses he forcefully gave me. The scars on his neck were visible now that he had taken off his scarf to strangle me earlier while he pounded into my entrances.

Looking at his serene face when he slept...the angelic and innocent man I love...I used to love…

He called the wrong name...

It was so torturing.

As I left the room and the house; which belonged to a close friend who spoke the same language as I and it was by luck that the other guests had either gone home or still passed out of their drunkenness in the living room; I couldn't get off the thought of what happened and what will happen once I step out to the world. What would people think of me? What would they do to me, once the secret I was planning to keep for the rest of my life was to be revealed, accidentally or intentionally?

Most of all, what would they do to _him_...?

Who would have thought a friend's birthday party would end up with me raped heartlessly for hours by a drunken man.

The man I loved...

Sitting at the driver's seat of my car was a torture as well. But I swallowed the pain and braved myself to endure it as I journeyed to the first destination in mind - the hospital. I was bleeding pretty badly and the driver's seat was starting to be soaked in my own blood. But, no, I endured it for the whole ride.

My own private doctor was a sweet lady with a height slightly taller than the average women I had seen. I had known her family, who are mainly doctors of different medical fields, for a very long time, and they too, knew about mine. She was perhaps the youngest of the family that had taken the responsibility to care for me. She was a strict observant as well, and she knew what happened the second I stepped into her office. She quickly appointed a surgical treatment for my ruptured insides and in less than half an hour I was stripped, cleaned and ready for the operation.

The surgery didn't take long and after waking up a good 5 hours later, she told me I could go home the next day. She gave me lists of things I should do and not do; foods I should take and not take...she even gave me dates for my next check-up, just in case there would be a post-op complication. All the while I only kept silent and nodded to her questions. After giving me a few checklists, she pulled a chair closer to my bed, looking me straight in the eyes with her grey ones, frowning ever so deeply.

As I had mentioned, she was a strict observant. She knew...

"Ludwig...I know this is out of my league, and I don't really know what happened...but don't you want to go to the police about this?"

"I told you...it was an accident...a hit and run. Even if I contact the police, what can they do?"

I lied. I couldn't bear the truth behind my injuries.

But she knew. She knew what happened. How can she not? She was the one who cleaned and treated the cuts and bruises on my face, who pushed back my dislocated arm into its socket and stitched my injured sphincters, who dug out the mess of feces, semen and blood out of the holes between my legs...

And she also knew I am not the best when it comes to telling lies.

"Ludwig..." She began and touched the back of my hand. I flinched and quickly pulled it onto my lap, embarrassment and fear suddenly flooding in my chest at the reaction I gave, but she didn't look amused by it at all. Her grey eyes were shining with pity and they reflected my sadness. "If you don't want to lodge a police report, then that is fine. But I'm worried about your well-being. Perhaps I should recommend you to my uncle?"

Sure. The psychiatrist. Why not?

But in all honesty, I prefer the subject to be left alone. I don't want to remember what happened to me that night...locked in a room and shut off from the world...with the man I loved but he said the wrong name...

Forgive and forget. Let everything heal itself.

However, with how ruined my mind was, I only nodded...agreeing to something that I'm not sure would work. She smiled and scribbled more words on her notepad and tore one of the papers to be given to me.

"Here's his number. I will give him a call as well, and see if he could come to your house instead of you going to his."

She got up, still giving me the encouraging smile. But I knew. The smile was only to cover up her sympathy. I didn't care, though, because I needed it so bad. "And you might want to appoint some help in your house too...even if I said you could walk around, you still need to refrain from doing heavy work. It would damage your...you know...and the stitches would come off too, before they can heal."

I took her advice and barely left my home for anything. I had called on a housekeeper to take care of the cleaning and the cooking, while I lay down on the bed; sometimes I would sit if I felt strong enough to tolerate the ache; doing my work or reading a book. I keep myself occupied just so I would forget about my injuries, physically and mentally.

I always try to find a way to stress myself out to forget something. It is like an addictive habit to me. Some people would opt to talk to friends or family about their problems, some would hurt themselves to feel alive again...whilst I prefer to keep everything to myself. I would stay quiet and wait; wait for everything to heal itself.

But talking to someone wasn't going to be a good idea. Especially talking to a stranger about something so shameful...

The psychiatrist's first visit was bad. Very bad.

He came in two weeks after my operation in the hospital. He was a nice middle-aged man, a little weighty and had a set of mustache and beard that would remind anyone of an old college professor. Our session wasn't too bad during the introductory part; we talked about football and food, I talked about my dogs and he talked about his cats...but then I screamed at him to get out and leave me alone when he gave a hint of the rape. Poor man was terrified but he managed to tell me that he will come again in another two weeks.

I regretted shouting at him like that. But I was a clutter of hate, fear and confusion, my mind was a total chaos and I couldn't think straight all the time. Those memories of hell were too hard to forget but I kept on believing that they would go away...someday, somehow. I wanted everything to just leave me be.

Anger and frustration caught with me when I realized I didn't heal fast enough.

Above all that, I always found myself falling sick at odd hours of the day. Sometimes I would throw up on the bed after waking up screaming from a nightmare, sometimes I would vomit when I ate a little too much or when I was concentrating hard on my work. The maid had placed an empty bucket beside my bed, and a bowl of cold water with a fresh towel beside it on the bedside table, just in case my stomach went upset again and I had no time to strut to the toilet.

I knew there was still something wrong with my body, but since I didn't get any proper and thorough treatment except the surgery, I was in no position to say I'm still sick.

During my second visit to the hospital, I complained about the nausea and strong headache I had been experiencing. The doctor told me it could probably be my body trying to get out of the shock and pain, and it rejected anything that it deemed foreign. Since then, she had assigned painkillers for my headache and some antibiotics, just in case...she also gave me antidepressants to keep my stress level as low as possible.

I know it's arrogant to say that I am a little stubborn when it comes to taking medicines. It wasn't something I hate, like how little children would deny in any way to eat fresh vegetables and chose their candies instead, but I never really believed that they could cure anything; though they could help a bit in certain occasions. I had always believed that only willpower and inner strength would be more appropriate to have everything healed.

Thus, ever since the visit, I only ate one medication. The antidepressant.

I kept having nightmares, the ones we all had in our sleep, and when I woke up sweating and screaming from it, my emotions came crashing down so suddenly and I started to panic. Sometimes, I would fall into a very deep depression and the tendency to hurt myself and watch my skin bleed was very high.

But I knew I would be alright. Let everything heal itself and I would be alright.

I got my emotions into a controllable level. Until that Christmas Eve...

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The meeting was held on the eve of Christmas, almost two months after that terrifying event. I was never sure why Christmas Eve was chosen for the day of the audit and post-mortem for all that had happened that year, but it could probably be one of the guys' ideas just so they could have an excuse to finish early and have a little date with the liquors at night. Or perhaps; to spend a little quiet time with their loved ones.

I don't do any of those, despite it being a jolly season.

I don't like being drunk when there's work to do. And I don't have a loved one...

No, I do. I _did_. But he doesn't know.

And he doesn't love me.

We had a quiet party in one of our homes, and this year we chose the Briton's - Arthur's - house in London. He had strictly told his guests not to make a mess of his new house, though I doubt anyone would want to listen to him. Especially not with the beer cans and champagne bottles stocked up on his kitchen counter.

Somehow I was grateful the evening wasn't filled with loud partying and stupid games. Every guest were alright; dancing in the room, chatting with each other as they sipped their drinks and munch on the cookies that Arthur baked...or maybe my other friend, Francis made it; considering that he would be the only one who loved to put complicated decorations on something as simple as cookies.

It was an alright party. No loud music, no crazy pranks...no drunken people who tried to get into each other's pants...

I wasn't comfortable to be there, to be honest. I wasn't ready to be in the crowd, regardless of how my cuts and bruises had healed completely, my arm didn't feel sore anymore and I could walk normally again. Even when my best friend, the Italian Feliciano, tried to shake my hand, I harshly slapped his hand away and avoided his confused eyes. For the whole time I was there, I was silent and during the dance, I stayed in the furthermost corner of the room; watching the others, my friends, having the time of their lives.

...watching Ivan embracing Alfred in the crowd, whispering soothing words into the American's ear...and they giggled in their own love songs...

He whispered words to me before...when he forced me into submission...but he said the wrong name.

I wasn't ready for this.

As I sipped the soda in my hand; since I was advised not to drink anything with alcohol in it due to my nausea; a man I called Roderich and the others called Rode, approached me. He lived in Austria and sometimes I wonder if he was closely related to me...maybe cousins, maybe nephews and uncles of some sort. He wasn't coming to ask for a dance, or to start any petty jokes. He was, just like me, uncomfortable with crowded places droning with murmurs and loud laughter. Roderich leaned against the wall beside me and folded his arms, scoffing at the others who had started to cheer and dance to a faster beat of the music.

"I don't even know why I joined this party in the first place..." He started, eyeing me behind his glasses. "After how they trashed my place two months ago..."

"Well, it was your birthday. And it was Erzsébet's sweet idea to have the party at your house."

"Exactly! _My _house! And for three days, I have to clean all the empty bottles and cake smudges off the floor and on the wall. The even have all those...vomit...urine and...white, sticky stuff on my expensive furniture!"

I smiled slightly. The subject of cleanliness is a huge issue for him...and for me too, sometimes. We shared that trait of keeping all that belonged to us as clean as possible, though I am not as vigorous as he. But the white, sticky stuff...I wondered if he meant...

"Not to mention that the Russian was doing something in one of my guest rooms."

"Oh. He was in your guest room? What...what did he do?" I acted like I didn't know what he was talking about, and swallowed on my saliva hard. Luckily, Roderich wasn't like my doctor. He didn't smell the lie and kept on babbling about the matter.

"Tch. I found him half-naked on the floor cuddling in a blanket..._nein_, that wasn't the main problem of it..."

I swallowed again.

"I found blood and...that white stuff...on the bed and on the floor. _Gott_, Ludwig...those gross substances are everywhere! And on the bathroom floor...oh, _Gott_..."

I chugged down the soda and tried not to listen to what he was telling me. About that room, about what happened that night...it's coming back to me...

"One of the lamps was busted and the wooden stool by the window was broken...It was like there was a fight in there."

It's really coming back to me...

"But Ivan was alone...so, either the other person or his orgy group had left the crime scene, or he was doing some sort of black magic with my furniture. It's crazy! You should have seen the amount of blood on that bed-"

"Can...can you excuse me for a minute?"

I walked off before the Austrian could ask me why or where I was going, but I didn't think he minded anyway. I walked by the people dancing in the room, carefully avoiding contact as I made my way to the heavy curtains and the balcony that lay ahead. I walked until I reached the railing, and I sighed in relief once I was outside.

It was refreshing to be out from the crowd and into an empty space with nothing but the cold wind and the bright moonlight to accompany you. Arthur's penthouse overlooked the city and with the snow covering the rooftops, it was simply a peaceful sight to enjoy.

I dug into the left pocket of my trousers, ignoring the cold on my exposed skin and pulled out the container of my antidepressants. I planned on swallowing one dry, but then I decided to dig the other pocket for my cigarettes. Smoking isn't really my type of thing, but at times when I need comfort, I wouldn't hesitate to smoke one stick. I lit one up and started to smoke. The beginning of it got me into a coughing fit, and after a few minutes, I got used to the smog in my lungs.

All the negative thoughts in my mind flew away as the white smoke vanished into the air. I had to forget about everything and what happened that night. That nightmare...

I smoked my cigarette a little faster, still trying to push all the memories away. It was hard, but I was getting it done. It was a silent night and I intended to keep my mind that way.

Yes, everything will heal in the end.

I heard noises and soft murmurs behind me, and chose to ignore them. But then, I heard Alfred's loud voice complaining about how cold it was outside and whined to someone so they could return back into the warmth of the house. A soft child-like voice replied patiently and I didn't have to turn around and look to guess who the voice belonged to. I heard more scuffling noises and more whining, before Alfred mentioned that he wanted to use the bathroom.

I smoked on my cigarette more.

It was only Ivan and I on the balcony now. I swore I was sweating in fear at that moment.

"_Privet_, Ludwig!" He called out to me, and God, he was coming closer. "Did you enjoy the party? Oh, _da._ Merry Christmas! Sorry, I didn't have any presents for you. I mean, my Christmas celebration is in January, so..."

"It's alright...Ivan..." My chest hurt as I said his name and I moved away a little, giving a good four feet gap in between us. I didn't want him to touch me.

It hurt too much. He doesn't love me...

"But how about I give you a hug?" He smiled and opened up his arms. He always smiles...and it was always so beautiful. If there is anything in this world that I would love to see before I die, if I can die, that thing would be Ivan's sweet smile. I had always loved it...but...since that night, all I can see was his drunken grin, as he forcefully pushed into my-

My mind snapped awake when I sensed that he was stepping even closer to me, cutting the gap short into merely inches. I started to panic and I moved away again. He frowned at my reaction.

"Ludwig...is there something wrong...?"

I didn't look at him and I didn't answer his question immediately. I let my eyes wander into the breathtaking night sky and silently cursed the cigarette stub in between my fingers. Damn. No more cigarettes to get my mind off this man...

"Ivan..." I started, with the unusual timidity in my deep voice. "Do you...do you enjoy the party...?"

"The party? _Da!_ But I can say it is much better in a Russian Christmas!" He smiled once more.

"_Nein_...I mean...the party, in Roderich's house...his birthday party..." I tried to look away, but it was so hard.

"Ah...that party! Of course...but, heh...I guess I drank too much at that one..." Oh, God. That smile again...

"...I guess so...m-maybe you don't remember anything...that night..." I whispered mainly to myself, but Ivan clarified it.

"_Nyet._ I remembered laughing with your cousin and that Australian and Kiku...hehe...even Roderich was drunk at that time...then, the next day I woke up...it was noon and I was on the floor in one of the rooms. Roderich wasn't too happy and was in a hangover rage when he found me there..."

"So...you don't remember...what happened...?" I bit on my lower lip and clenched on my chest, as if I could stop the tight knot inside from tightening.

It hurt.

"_Nyet._ I tried to remember, but I couldn't- Ludwig, are you alright...? You look a little pale..."

He approached me. No, I didn't want him to come near.

It hurt. He doesn't remember...he doesn't love me...

"Ivan! Come on in! Arthur said it's time to sing the carols! Though, I don't know why we should really do that-hey, Luddy!"

Alfred. The annoying man that never stopped talking even during meetings...the man that Ivan loved...

I didn't acknowledge his presence nor did I reply to his greeting. I took that moment as an excuse to leave the Russian and his...lover, alone. I took it as a cue for me to leave the party. My chest hurt and I needed to get out of this place. My stomach was churning again, my head throbbing in pain and my eyes stung with tears...

I got my jacket, scarf and warm boots, and managed my way out of Arthur's house without anyone noticing. As I got into the elevator, I pressed the 'Door closed' button, and rammed my body into one of the corners and started to cry. I was heartbroken. Not only did the man I loved, loves someone else...he didn't even remember what monstrous thing he had done on me...

No hope. I have nothing else left for me to clinch on except...

I dug my left pocket and pulled out the anti-depressants. I took one pill and popped it into my mouth. I swallowed it dry and waited for the effects to kick in. Nothing happened for a few minutes. I banged my fist to the elevator's wall and cried harder in frustration. I took in another pill and then another...

Slowly, I stopped hyperventilating and I could feel the depression wearing down. But my tears still flowed down my cheeks.

All these emotions...perhaps I should see my doctor again. Or her uncle. Yes, definitely her uncle.

I have to forget. I have to forget everything.

I pressed the button to the floor where I parked my car and the elevator moved downwards. I closed my eyes for the entire journey downwards, and waited for my tears to dry. Waited for everything to heal itself...even if it was impossible...very impossible...

He doesn't remember what happened.

He doesn't love me. He loved Alfred.

Nothing heals in the end.

.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

**A/N:** _Second chapter. Sorry about the scat._  
_Ludwig's first signs of pregnancy already shows, but he won't know that he's pregnant until the next chapter._

_Also, I need a name for Ludwig's doctor and her uncle. Any suggestions?  
_


	3. All things came crashing down

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

.

It was January. Almost the end of it, in fact.

I stared at the scarf that I had knitted six months ago; folded nicely in the basket with the remaining violet and light yellow wool yarns. It was already finished, except the sunflower felt design that I intended to sew at the end of the scarf. It was supposed to be Ivan's birthday gift...but after that night in October, I didn't manage to finish it. Knitting and sewing weren't my forte; the first time I tried sewing up a hole on my boxers, I pricked almost every finger in the process...and the stitches were horribly uneven. I didn't know why I kept on doing them even if I know I would never be good...

Maybe it was for him. I did everything with him in my thoughts. Always.

I baked cakes and cookies to be brought to meetings, in hope that he would taste it and compliment it.

I lend my ears and listen silently with a smile whenever he stood up at the front of the meeting room, giving his presentation and what-not.

I asked how he was doing every day, worrying so much if he had fallen sick or if something was bothering his mood.

I laughed when he told me jokes, even if they were not so funny. I comforted him when he needed a shoulder to cry on...

I smiled for him, because I wanted him to smile back at me.

Everything for him. Just for him.

But all of those dreams came crashing down. And I was left with nothing but the memory of all the pain he caused me.

I know I couldn't blame him entirely for this hurt and lonely feeling I had. It was my own fault too, anyway. I didn't tell him that I loved him in time; that I wanted to be with him...I may be a disciplined and punctual person, a strict man who always prioritizes work and cleanliness...but when it comes to confessing love, I am such a useless coward.

But surely he did know that I loved him, didn't he?

The gifts I gave him. The attentions I granted him. The smile I showed just for him...He must had taken a hint. I was hoping he did...

I ran my hand to the fabric of the scarf. This perhaps was the eighth scarf I did as a present for Ivan. And every time my gift was nothing compared to what the others gave him for his birthday. The last birthday I attended, I still remember Francis giving him a barrel of the most expensive wine there is in the world, while my friend, Kiku, gave him an electronic gadget of some sort. The Chinese man gave him a human-sized large panda doll; big enough to use as a cuddling toy. Sometimes I wonder if Ivan would actually love a toy as a gift.

And of course, there's the American. His gifts weren't big, but they didn't look that cheap either. Clothes, candies, and other souvenirs from his country...Every time Ivan accepted the gifts, he would kiss Alfred's cheek or forehead in appreciation; sometimes affectionately on his lips. And he would smile that beautiful smile to Alfred, happy with the presents he got from the man he loved...

I never did get that smile when I gave him the scarves I made. Maybe it was because he already had a lot of them and he didn't need another one. Maybe he wasn't happy with how I made it, or how simple and cheap-looking my gift was.

But it was my handiwork. And I wanted him to be happy with what I can do for him.

Just for him.

But all things came crashing down now. I had nothing to live with but the guilt and heartache I felt when I lost my chance on his love. Moving on won't be easy, I know. But what else choice did I have?

I packed the unfinished scarf into a box as I decided to put it away into the closet forever. I thought I would burst into tears like how I did every night on my bed, when I held the only photograph I had of us in my hand and my lips chanting his name in soft whispers. The only photograph with him being so close to me, his arm hanging on my shoulder as he pulled me closer for the picture...the photo which captured my smile and his; making them match each other perfectly.

Yes. I thought sadness would engulf me as I placed the box at the top-most shelf and closed the closet door. However, not a single negative emotion came to my mind. I know I was grieving at that moment, but it didn't show on my face. As I heard the closet door clicked close, I sighed heavily. Relieved, yet still defeated.

The door stood as a barrier to my longing towards that man for now. As I leaned against it, I thought to myself about how I should spend my time that day to forget about the Russian. My mind had gone towards my medications on the kitchen counter. I couldn't remember how many pills I had swallowed, but I had yet to touch the antibiotics and painkillers. The container with the antidepressants was only half empty.

Half empty. What a way to think of the world.

I didn't stay long pondering in front of the closet when the nausea kicked in again. The second time for the day. I walked off hurriedly to make another appointment with the toilet bowl, and as I reached there, I gladly relieved my upset stomach. Though, all this throwing up was really making me tired.

It had been weeks...no, since the second visit to the hospital...that the fatigue and queasiness had been occurring in me. The sickness was unpredictable; sometimes I would find myself vomiting when I was having my dinner, sometimes when I was walking in the nearby recreational field with my dogs. The more food my body rejected through my mouth, the more food-craved I become. I don't always have second helpings, but with whatever that was playing with me, physically and mentally, I found myself eating like the word 'tomorrow' doesn't exist. Then other problems persisted, including my constant dizziness and constipation whenever the need to defecate came in. I couldn't sleep that well either.

But I couldn't stop myself. As if my body was automatically accustomed to the pain and heartache I felt inside and only acted accordingly...

I was depressed the day my hopes for the man I loved came crashing down, and I had believed my body and mind were doing these to make me feel better.

The worst was perhaps my swift mood change. Just a week ago, I had yelled unpleasant words towards my housekeeper when she asked me for a day off to take her grandson to the amusement park. I terrified her with my anger and I left her sobbing in shock. But after an hour or so, I called up to her again and apologized to her out of the heavy guilt I felt. I even cried, begging her to forgive me. She did, of course...no surprise there. And, probably out of embarrassment of myself reacting like I did, I eventually gave her a three-week holiday while I kept her salary running.

Frankly, these strange incidences didn't bother me at all, and as usual I blamed them on that dark episode of my life that October...until the start of February when I experienced an intense heart burn in my midsection. I woke up with a loud groan and after half an hour of pain and tears, I managed to breathe normally again. It was short but torturing.

That time, in the wee hours of morning, the realization that something was off with me came slapping to my face harshly. All those nausea, all those vomiting and craving, the mood swings and what-not...there was definitely something wrong with me.

The heart burn was the last straw. I knew I couldn't deny myself of the things my own body was doing to me anymore.

The next morning I called my doctor to ask if I would bring forward my check-up, which was supposed to be at the end of this month, to that day. She agreed and marked my visit after noon, just so she could have lunch with her husband.

I arrived earlier than noon, though. Because the longer I stayed at home, the more prone I was to fall sick again.

I sat on the couch in the waiting room where I was led to; my legs crossed and twitching in rhythm with the Beethoven that was playing softly through the speakers. I didn't mind the wait, not at all, but the curiosity and anxiety was making me restless. I tried to distract myself by reading the magazines on the coffee table, or play with the games on my cell phone that I didn't bother to play until now...but it was no use.

I need to know what was wrong with me. The sooner, the better.

"Ludwig?"

I jolted up from my seat and stared at the opened door. I regretted standing up so suddenly, though, because the instant I got on my feet, a pang of headache jutted in. At first glance, I couldn't recognize who it was until I blinked once or twice. It was my doctor. She seemed somewhat tired, rushing to this place from wherever she was, but her smile never left her beautiful face.

"Sorry for the long wait. My daughter got into a tantrum, and I can tell you, it's not easy to get her smiling again." She giggled and took my hand, before she led me to her office. I twitched slightly to the touch on my hand, but I let the nervousness pass by. "Have you had your lunch, Ludwig?"

"I..._nein_, I haven't..." I wanted to say 'yes', but it's no use lying to her. "I don't want to. Or else I might get sick."

"Sick? So you're still having the headaches and nausea?" She sat down behind her huge office desk and I sat next to it on the patient's stool. Her sweet smile changed into a frown, and that was when I lowered my head. "Ludwig...you didn't take the painkillers I gave you, did you?"

Guilty as charged.

"I...I don't think I need them. I'm fine, I really am...it's just...well, I can't seem to be getting any better with the vomiting...and this morning, the stomachache...a-and...umm..." Oh, boy. Where do I start? I could accuse the trauma of Ivan raping me for my headaches, maybe even the fact that I'm stressfully bloating myself up with food...but how do I explain my abrupt mood changes and the heart burn? Or the regular vomiting I did almost every day? What reason do I have to back them up?

I heard her sigh and she leaned in closer to me. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me everything, Ludwig. But as your doctor, I think I have heard enough...it's time to check your body." She stood up and pulled me along. I looked at her, a bit confused, when she pushed me gently into the room next to her office. It was the diagnosis room, and I know where this was leading to.

"Lie down on the bed, Ludwig. I'll be with you in a minute." I managed to hear her calling her secretary to get a nurse to stand-by, right before the door closed shut. I obeyed her orders and got myself to lie down on the only bed in the room, carefully taking off my shoes and jacket as I get myself comfortable on it. It felt like the time I was brought into the operation room, almost the same feeling of anxiety and fear.

No. That time was far worse than this...

She came in wearing her professional attire, donning latex gloves and a surgical mask this time, and she came closer to the side of the bed. I couldn't see it, but I knew she smiled. "Could you lift up your shirt? Oh, and pull down your trousers a little."

You know how embarrassing to do those? Especially in front of a woman?

It took me quite a moment to comply. I could feel my cheeks blushed furiously as I exposed half of my torso to her. You would have told me that it didn't matter because she is my doctor; or that I should be proud of having a well-sculptured abdomen from the workouts I did and it's only normal for me to show it off. But honestly, with the way I was feeling; ashamed and somewhat sick with the fact that I might not look as good as I used to be; hiding myself was probably the most intuitive move that I could come up with.

She came closer to the side of the bed and placed a gloved hand on my exposed midsection; pressing her fingers firmly under my ribs until I let out a grunt. "Does this hurt?"

"Mhh...I feel like puking..."

She took it as a 'yes' and continued to massage my body. She moved her hands to the sides, pressing that area before she moved them towards my navel...then she stopped. I couldn't count how long she had harbored her fingers there, but I noticed her faint surprised expression and it worried me. She took a deep breath quietly and pressed the area between my navel and my groin softly; making circular motions on it. I had to admit when she did that, I felt something...odd, inside me. It felt like she was rolling a tennis ball on my skin...or under my skin, if that was even possible to imagine...

Words were not needed when I saw the look on her face. And at that instant, I knew it could be something bad. I stared back at her, confused. She lifted up her hands and left my side, and off to another room without a word. I couldn't even manage to ask her what happened. What did she touch...inside me...?

My doctor wasn't gone for long and when she returned, she brought a machine with her. Of all my days staying in a hospital; out of injury or sickness; I had never seen that machine before. It had a large monitor attached on it, loads of buttons on its keypad...and something that looks like a printer of some sort stuck on its side. I really wasn't sure what it was, a scanner perhaps...

"Alright. Relax, Ludwig. This won't hurt...it'll just take a moment." She assured me as she plugged the machine to the electrical socket and switched it on. Honestly, the whirring sound of the object coming to life wasn't making me relaxed at all.

She took out a tube from her the pocket of her coat and squashed out a cold blue-coloured gel onto my stomach. I only swallowed and hoping that everything is alright, that there was nothing wrong with me, as I watch her placing a probe that connected to the machine onto the gel...my guess it was a scanner. She whirled the probe around; wiping the gel evenly onto my skin until again, she stopped.

"Ah. My guess was right. Why didn't I realize this before?"

The machine continued to whir as she moved the end of the scanner in small circular motions. The sound, the movements...they were making me feel sick, somehow.

"Hmm...Maybe your abdominal muscles are obscuring its appearance...but from this, it seems to be growing..."

Growing? What was...growing inside me? Was it a tumour? Was it cancerous...?

I didn't dare to look at the screen. I didn't dare to follow where her eyes was looking at.

It was making me feel sick.

My head started to throb and I winced at the sudden headache. I could feel myself crashing down into unconsciousness at any moment. Everything always comes down crashing...

"W-what..." I swallowed heavily, trying not to let my nervousness take over the tone of my voice. I took a quick glance at the monitor. There was some kind of shape with what looked like a faint noise, just like a television when the antenna cord is off, except that there wasn't any static sound on this monitor except the sickening whirring sound. At the bottom of the image were two round shapes; one large and round, the other an oval that skewed in a diagonal position. They were small and...they were moving?

Oh, God. It really made me feel very sick.

"What are you...what are you talking about? W-what is that? Is...is that a tumour? Am I having a tumour inside my stomach?" I asked, rather frantically. She only looked at me with an unreadable expression on her beautiful face; she looked surprised, happy, sad, sorry...everything blended together on her face. It got me so confused.

"That's...that's not a tumour, Ludwig...it's umm..." She sighed softly and turned the probe in her hand into a different angle. The screen showed something else.

And that was when I could make out...the round object wasn't entirely rounded. It even had a...a tiny nose. The object even had limbs; set of arms and a set of legs were attached to what looked like a body. Oh, God...and it seemed alive. It's really _moving_.

I couldn't stand it. I didn't want to believe it...This must had been a mistake! There must be something wrong with the...the machine! That couldn't be it! That isn't...it isn't...

"It's a fetus. L-Ludwig...I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing for you but uhh...you're pregnant."

_...so very sick._

I stared back at the machine, wide-eyed in disbelief. True enough...the object on the screen looked no different than a human fetus; alive and moving. No, this was wrong! I couldn't be pregnant...I couldn't...it's impossible!

But then again, who am I kidding?

I had a female reproductive organ inside me ever since I existed in this world. Even if my previous doctors had assured me that the particular organ was neuter and it would never function, today, this foreign machinery had proven them erroneous. I was raped, I was inseminated...and now I'm carrying a baby. The rapist's child...

The confusion and fear conquered my pool of emotions the most and I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. I gripped on the sides of the bed's mattress tightly, trying to keep myself calm. But at that moment, my mind was very messed up. I kept glancing at the screen and my doctor's voice echoed heavily in my ears. I couldn't exactly catch what she was saying, but I saw her pressing the buttons and pulling out a small glossy paper from the printing slot. Now I saw the picture more clearly. I saw the fetus inside me more clearly.

All things came crashing down.

My hopes. My dreams. My future. Everything.

I felt so sick. It was getting harder to breathe and I could feel my heart hammering mercilessly behind my ribs. My grips on the mattress were so tight that my knuckles had turned white; so were my face as cold sweat rolled down the sides. My tear-filled eyes didn't left the photo of the unborn child in her hand. Everything's crashing down...crashing down...

"Ludwig-! Ludwig, calm down now...breathe! Breathe, Ludwig, breathe!"

I heard her desperate voice as she called me...I saw her turning off the machine and shaking my shoulders to help me snap awake from my negative thoughts. However, the panic was stronger inside than my consciousness, and I started to run my hands all over my body. Every time my fingers touched my stomach, right at where she had squeezed the cold gel on, I started to flinch and scream internally. Yes, I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell like a hysterical person...but my voice betrayed me.

I began to trash on the bed, making a noise that didn't sound like me at all. I was so heartbroken, so confused, so frightened...all the pessimistic feelings just kept on flooding into me and the surge was too much for me to bear alone.

Crashing down. I was crashing down...I was crashing down to earth without a parachute, without a safe ejection mode, without wings...without anyone to catch me from below.

I was alone in this. All alone.

"Ludwig! Ludwig, calm down! Calm- nurse! Nurse, I need a sedative, low volume! Now!"

I couldn't ...I couldn't bear it all alone.

It was so wrong. Everything was so wrong.

"Aahh..." I felt a tiny prick on my left arm and something flowing underneath my skin. I didn't fight my doctor anymore as my muscles relaxed to the power of the drug. My vision cleared as I blinked off the tears. I didn't realize I was trashing that badly until I saw three nurses, who finally let go off my limbs. I continued to stare blankly at them, wordless, as I waited for my breathing to slow down just like how my heart was beginning to beat normally again.

I heard her voice, talking to the nurses...though it echoed so distantly in my ears. She had me in an embrace and I was thankful for it. I needed it a lot. I brought my right hand to her protective arms and gripped on her sleeve. Being this close to a person should have brought the nervousness on me, but after the panic attack, it somehow managed to shun itself away. Before I knew it, I already had my wet face buried near her neck, as I whispered softly under my breath;

"Why me...? Why must it be me?"

She didn't reply to my question. I didn't expect her to, anyway. I knew there was never a direct answer to it. Her lack of reply wasn't upsetting me...but the silence...the silence filled with sympathy and sadness, guilt and fear was making me cry like a lost child in the middle of a black forest. Where ever my mind tried to go, it just crumbled down as I kept on lamenting on my fate.

Everything was so wrong. I never wanted this...I never wanted Ivan to rape me, I never wanted him to love someone else...

I never wanted a child who doesn't know who its father is...

So wrong. It was so wrong...

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

My eyes were closed, but sleep had slowly vaporized off from my body. In the stillness, I overheard two people conversing. I recognize my doctor's sweet voice...another was a man's. I guessed it was her uncle. I couldn't get what they were talking about, but I noticed the words 'once a week' and 'eye on him'...others were messed up echoes.

The topic must have been me.

I slowly opened my eyes and stirred slightly, sighing in the process. I propped myself up on the bed...or soft cushions. I opened my eyes fully and stared down at the furniture I was on. A sofa. Definitely soft cushions.

Time was null at that moment as I cleared my mind completely and observed my surroundings. I was in a large room, half-filled with a tall bookcase at one wall, a small desk and chair nearby, two sofas of which one of them had been my temporary bed, and a coffee table equipped with a small plastic plant and an untidy pile of magazines.

From this image, I guessed that I was in a psychiatrist's room of some sort. The multiple awards and certificates on the wall opposite the window, and the faint smell of some herbal essence in the air proved so.

I let my legs down from the cushion's comfort and onto the carpeted floor, as I straightened myself up on the seat. I leaned to the front at first, supporting my upper body on my elbows as I dug them into my knees. The palm of my hands found their way onto my face, as I pushed away the haziness and tried to find that relief in what happened to me. What lead me into this room...

Of course.

I fainted. Or I was drugged. Or both. It didn't matter, now that the memory of what happened came back to me in slow whispering sounds. I remembered calling my doctor and getting an appointment, she had me on the bed with this weird machine, then I saw...I saw...

Another sigh came out of me and it sounded almost like a frustrated gasp. I carefully leaned back into the couch and moved my hand to my stomach. To the very spot where my doctor had captured that image-

Oh, God. I wanted it to be a dream, a silly nightmare...but touching my stomach and feeling the hardened bump that I didn't bother to perceive before was starting to make me feel depressed again. This was reality. I was pregnant...and I have no clue on what to do about it. Surely I couldn't just let it grow inside me and give birth to it. What will my friends say if they knew? What would my late brother say if he had been alive? What will Ivan say if...?

What would he do anyway? He didn't know anything about what he had done to me, about how he raped me that tragic night...how could I possibly tell him that I am now pregnant with his kid? He might find me as his enemy, a person that he would never touch and would never love. I didn't want that.

_He doesn't love me._

But...but if I'm lucky, he might just come to accept me, to love me...even though it would be based solely on guilt and responsibility for the baby...

Then again, I couldn't risk having the others know about this humiliation I had been through. And with that matter in consideration, the possibility of Ivan accepting the fact that he had accidentally impregnated me was wearing thin.

_He doesn't love me. He loved someone else._

Only two possibilities played in my head right then and there. Either I keep the baby and tell Ivan about my pregnancy, or...or I could abort it. Yes, abort it. I wasn't sure how that would work, but if it could hide the pain and shame, I wouldn't mind doing it...and for some reason, the latter seemed to interest me more and-

"Ludwig, are you awake?" A voice startled me from my thoughts but I only managed a soft gasp. I didn't need to look up to note that it was my psychiatrist. He walked close towards me and sat down at the single chair next to the couch. He rested his hands on the armrest and smiled.

I noted that my doctor was in the room as well; she closed the door to the room and walked towards us, before resting herself on the empty space of the couch, right beside me.

Silence came down suddenly and it started to make me very uneasy. I barely looked up at her as I asked; "How long had I been out...?"

"Four hours. You fell asleep; you looked really tired that time. So, I asked the nurses to bring you in here...just so you'll feel a bit more comfortable." She smiled and held on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. For once, since that day in October, I felt at ease with a person's touch on me. "Feeling better?"

I carefully nodded and diverted my eyes down towards my feet. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to have a baby, to tell Ivan about his baby...

"Ludwig...I had been umm...discussing with Uncle Liam about you. And...we decided to have your therapy sessions once a week from now on."

"Don't worry, Ludwig. I'll still be visiting your house. That way you don't have to leave your house that often...moreover your baby will grow and it might be a little difficult for you to move around then..." The bearded man chuckled and smiled his cheerful grandpa smile to me. I didn't return it.

"Since you're pregnant now, I have to ask you to throw away all the previous medications I gave you...I'll prescribe a new set of medication for you, as well as some supplements. Don't worry; they're completely safe for you and the baby." She smiled wider, as if those words and her smile would assure me further. "And I might give you a few Zoloft but for the sake of the baby, I would advise you to take-"

"I don't want this baby."

Silence came down again as she stopped talking. I could feel both of my doctors' eyes staring at me, surprised. I didn't know if this was the right cue for me to give my say, but after half a minute, I broke the stillness.

"I don't want this baby." I repeated, this time I looked up at her. My eyes were filled with tears once again and I hastily rubbed them off. I know it was disgraceful for a strong man like me to cry like this in front of people. But I really couldn't help it. The perplexity, the dread was too overwhelming...

"I want...I want an abortion...I can't have this baby, doctor...y-you can do that, right?" I moved closer to her, voice quivering with the tears that kept coming out and wetting my cheeks.

"_Bitte_..."

_he doesn't love me he doesn't love me he doesn't love me_

"Do anything just...just please...abort this baby for me..._bitte_."

"Ludwig...Ludwig, calm down...calm down..." She embraced me again; the second time that day. My arms returned the hug and I buried my face on her shoulder, chanting '_bitte_' quietly against the fabric of her blouse, ignoring the fact that I was being out of my usual character by doing so. No, I was never known as the begging crybaby. Not even with my late brother; whom always helped me out of my troubles. Even with him, I didn't beg and cry no matter how heavy I needed to.

But all this mess...all these problems...it's weighing me down too much. They came crashing down on me too fast I wasn't given a moment to breathe.

"Ludwig..." She carefully pried my body away from hers. She took a quick, worried glance on her uncle, before she continued to sooth me with that sweet voice of hers. "Ludwig...I cannot do that. I cannot abort the baby for you..."

"Why not? Why the fuck not? You're my doctor! You should listen to what I wanted!"

I shouted at her face and pushed her aside, as I stood up, pacing away from the couch. Again, I buried my face in my hands, trying to at least control my raging emotions.

"Yes, I know I'm your doctor, Ludwig. But as your doctor, I do what I think is right for you." I heard her sigh, and a few seconds later she was already by my side; her glistening grey eyes boring into me. "Aborting the baby now is going to harm your body, Ludwig. Even if you have female reproductive organs in you, overall, physically you're still a man. If you go on with it, there might be multiple side effects on the long run, physically and mentally...maybe some of them are permanently damaging-"

"Then find a way! Give me some drugs that could induce abortion or...or do a surgery on me!" I screamed at her again. My tears and feelings were at an irrepressible level as I let out all my frustrations on her.

"I can't risk doing it, Ludwig. I'm really sorry..."

"I don't want this baby! I don't want to bear a rapist's child! Enough with him humiliating me and turning me into a fucking bitch; I don't need anymore of the shame by having this bastard inside me-"

"Even if he raped you, even if he likes someone else, you still loved him...don't you, Ludwig?"

I stopped. My eyes went from my doctor to my psychiatrist. He was already on his feet and now he was approaching me in slow and sure steps. His eyes, still covered in sympathy, were now digging into me. That moment on, I knew I was trapped.

"You told me before...you loved him so much. You learnt to knit wool scarves for his birthdays. You baked cookies and brought them to work just for him to taste...you told me all these..."

_Shut up. Shut up. He doesn't love me. He doesn't care of what I did for him._

"You also showed me a photograph of you and him. You were smiling, Ludwig. I know you smiled just for him in that photo. Just for him."

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up._

"You always do everything with him in mind. But aborting the baby doesn't have anything to do with doing everything for him. You're doing it for yourself. Not for him. And if you think he would more or less care about you if you kill the baby, you're wrong, Ludwig."

_Yes, yes, yes. It's all wrong. It's all fucking wrong. What happened to me was wrong. All my fault. My fault. It was all my fault._

"Instead...you can accept the baby as his gift in return to what you always did for him, Ludwig. Accept the child as something that could bond your love to him. Even if he doesn't see it now, he will one day, eventually. He will understand how much you love him...and this pregnancy...it's the biggest sacrifice you can give for him, and it's going to be the most miraculous gift he had given to you..."

_...but..._

He doesn't love me. He doesn't love me at all. How can I bond my love to him if he doesn't love me?

I couldn't bear it all alone.

"But...but he loves someone else...he doesn't want me, doesn't love me...he loves someone else..." I whispered. The dam in my eyes ruptured and more tears started to flow down my face, like a lonely waterfall in the middle of the silencing darkness. "It hurts...it hurts so much..."

I was left standing in the middle of the room, crying loudly like a broken child with a broken toy. Both of my doctors just stood at where they were, watching me with pity painted across their faces. I knew they were there only to get ready just in case I decided to grab a sharp object in the room and stab myself, or the baby to death.

I wasn't that stupid. But I couldn't tell if I was still sane either.

I didn't know what to think as I let all of my unhappiness dried out with my wailing. All things came crashing down, the moment I was brought into that dark room, raped and beaten...and now I'm carrying his child.

Ivan's child.

Ivan...the man I loved. The man who took everything away from me. But he called the wrong name.

I did everything for him. Just for him.

And now everything came crashing down on me.

.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

**A/N:** _Third chapter. Now Ludwig's pregnancy is showing. I'm guessing he's three months pregnant...pretty much finishing the first trimester. I read somewhere that muscular abs can hide pregnancy bulge up to the fourth month. So, yeah..._

_For those who didn't read the warning in the summary and previous chapter; and freaked out on this...heh, serves you right. /shot ...No, I'm just playing._

_I got the name for the uncle (Lud's psychiatrist). I probably need more name suggestions on Ludwig's private doctor._

_Next chapter; Ivan and the ever-so annoying Alfred are in. I still guarantee no happiness there._


	4. You are not alone

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

.

It had been three weeks since my first ultrasound.

Three weeks since I saw the existence of a new life inside me.

Since that confusing event, I had noticed that my abdomen had started to take its round shape. The once invisible bump had started to show itself, as it stretches my tight skin and protrude out of the usual boundary of my waistline. It was awkward...very awkward. At the same time, it was exceptionally amusing to look at it in the mirror...even touching it gave me a surreal feeling. It's almost strange to think that a baby was growing and moving inside that small space of my body...

Sure. I wasn't the happiest man on Earth when I found out about my pregnancy. In fact, after letting myself out on the whole mess with tears, I started to get into a rage fit on my doctors again. I picked up the magazines on the table and threw them at the walls, managed to knock down one of the framed awards. I screamed, I bawled. I was very upset and brokenhearted. I was in such a shock that I couldn't control my sanity at that moment.

Eva, my doctor, was a very patient woman. If it wasn't for her; soothing me with sure words that eventually got my temper lower; I would have slammed my body into a wall...risking breaking more bones in the process. She led me to the couch again and I helped myself by lying down on it.

I heard her hushing her uncle out of the room and she told him that she could handle me. I noticed the worried look on Dr. Liam's face. Surely he couldn't leave his niece with a lunatic now, could he?

Oh, God. Am I really one?

The door to the room closed shut once again as the psychiatrist walked out. Silence filled in the space once more, but I sensed it differently now. The gloom had gone off the window and the heaviness had dispersed together with it. I, on the other hand, was still blanketed with negativity...but I had to admit, Eva's warm palm on my forehead was very calming.

"...looking at you now, it sort of reminds me how I was back then when I was pregnant with Violet." She started a conversation with me. I quirked an eyebrow as I glanced at her, curious as to what else there was to the start of the story. She didn't wait for me to say anything and just continued, as if she was just recalling a song that she had heard before from the radio.

"I was in a very deep depression when I carried Violet for solid six months. My husband lost his job...and I had to work on-calls almost every day. It was very stressful; I fought with my husband...got myself thinking about aborting her as well..."

I listened silently as she told me her little story. No, I didn't think she did this without any intention. I was sure she had an advice coming up for me in the end though I couldn't actually guess what it was.

"One day, we were...that is, my husband and I...we were screaming and blaming each other over dinner. Apparently the soup I cooked was bland and my husband blamed me for ruining our anniversary celebration. Oh, Ludwig...you should have seen how horrible my make-up became! All that mascara, running down my cheeks when I cried, God...but then again, I don't think you should..." She chuckled and I gave a soft smile in return.

"Then suddenly...Violet kicked me from the inside. It wasn't too hard, but enough to make me stop...It was a weird moment, really. Even my husband realized that I wasn't shouting in his face anymore and he started to embrace me in his arms, whispering apologetic words. Violet's kicks made me feel strangely calm..."

I kept on listening to her with sheer curiosity, the eagerness reflected on my face. Can babies really do that? Cooling down a fight with mere kicks?

"You know, Ludwig...I do believe that a baby can feel its mother's distress...and it will do anything to make its mother happy again." She held my hand firmly and gave me a more contented smile. "Whenever you get a respond from the little one, that moment...that's when you know you are not alone in this world. Never alone."

My ears took in everything she told me and it gave me a bit of that hope I was slowly losing.

True. I wasn't entirely alone in this. There's still someone I could care to. Someone...that would share my emotions and make me feel alright again.

My unborn child.

I wasn't alone at all.

I looked at her with a face showing worry and excitement at the same time. My hand unknowingly pressed softly on my abdomen. "...when will I feel my baby's kick...?" It was a stupid question to ask, but I was undoubtedly fervent. I wanted to feel how it is; if it was true that a baby's kick can calm a storm...I really wanted to feel it more often.

"Oh, you'll feel it soon, I'm sure." She smiled more, and this time I noticed the relief in her voice. "If I'm not mistaken, you might feel a faint kick in a week or two...otherwise, in the next month or more."

It had been three weeks since that day.

And I haven't felt a single movement inside my stomach.

Sometimes I would rub on my tummy slowly, trying to trigger that little kick I was so eager to feel. I was so used to doing it that even in odd times, like, when I was eating my dinner or before I fell asleep on the bed. And every time I remembered the nightmare Ivan gave me, my hand quickly found its way to the bump. It was very soothing to do so.

Still no movement...

"I can see you and the baby are getting along very well."

The voice startled me a bit and I blinked awake from my deep thoughts. Was I daydreaming again? Oh, God. This was the third time...

I shifted my sitting position and placed another pillow near the back of my waist, trying to find a good spot of slump on the couch just to lessen the back pain I was experiencing. Ever since the first meet with the backache I never felt before at my lumbar section, I kept trying to find a way to ignore it. And daydreaming had proven to me to be the best remedy so far.

"W-what do you mean, doc...?"

Dr. Liam, my good old psychiatrist, was smiling at me and he pointed at the baby bump, hidden under a large sweater I recently bought, with the end of his pen. "It seems to me like you're already accepting the baby's existence. I remember you ranted about being pregnant in the last two weeks...you looked so stressed and compelled to go through it. I was worried you would do something that would harm yourself or the poor child."

My cheeks heated up with embarrassment. It was so hard to disregard people reminding me that I was pregnant without feeling awkward. Very awkward...

"That's...that's because I didn't know what to do about it. I never for once thought I'll get preg-...b-but, well, I supposed with...whatever I managed to read...I think it wouldn't be so bad." I sighed heavily and my hand continued to rub on my stomach once more. "I'm still worried, _ja._ I know about raising children like I know the amount of fishes in the vast ocean; nothing! I...I will try to manage it through, though...I'm just not sure if I can endure everything on my own..."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Ludwig. Eva and I are always here for you. Remember, you're not alone in this."

"I...I know...You said that many times. I couldn't thank the both of you enough, of course..." I smiled at him as my cheeks blushed even more.

He scribbled something on his notepad with a reassured smile in return of mine; probably something positive he found out about me in that day's therapy session. I couldn't deny it. I was feeling slightly better than I was three weeks ago. Instead of crying and angering over this cruel fate I was set in, I somehow accepted it. Sure, I was raped, got myself accidentally pregnant and pretty much alone in everything...

I mean, what else can be worse than this?

My psychiatrist took a quick glance at his watch and from then I knew it was time to end the session for the week. Both of us had nothing else to say to each other; he didn't have any more therapy questions and I had no other problems to express to him. He started to pack his notepad and a pile of neatly clipped papers into his bag; of which looked peculiarly too classy for a guy of his profession.

"Alright, Ludwig. I guess this ends our therapy for today. I'm happy that you're making a positive progress!" He stood up and straightened up his old-school vest and smoothened out his thin white hair on his head. "We'll have this again next week...same time, unless there's something else obstructing the schedule..."

"Of...of course..." I responded. I stood up as well; as slowly and carefully as my body would allow. I gave out a displeased grunt as the pain hit my back again, but as usual I chose to ignore it. He was kind enough to give me a helping hand while I balanced myself on my feet.

I sent him to the door and gave him his coat before he stepped out to the porch...when he gave out a loud 'oh!' that somewhat startled me. He dug into his bag and pulled out a small postcard-sized picture. There were three copies of it.

"I almost forgot. Blame it on my old age...here." He chuckled and handed me the pictures, and that was when I noticed it was the ultrasound image of the fetus I was carrying. The ones that were printed out the first time when I had my baby bump scanned. The image was very clear...even clearer than the image I remember seeing on the monitor of the machine. I ran a thumb on the very spot where its little fingers was imaged, smiling to myself as if I was really holding its hand...

"Eva told me to give you these. Thought you might want to keep it..."

"_Danke_...but...why are there three of it? N-not that I'm complaining but...umm...isn't it a bit too many?"

Indeed. I didn't really need that many. One would certainly be enough. Well...unless I wanted to display one of it on my office desk, while the other would go to my diaries...but the third one?

Dr. Liam sighed, and I realized his smile had started to show slight pity. Oh, how I hate to see that in a smile... "It was Eva's idea...She thought it would be nice to tell...to tell the 'father' about the baby you're carrying. She said; at least you won't have to carry the burden all alone...at the same time, you could relieve whatever stress you had about the whole mess that happened between you and him..."

I swallowed. My index finger and thumb pressed hard against the photos as my eyes darted sharply on them.

Tell Ivan...about this baby inside me? The baby he unwillingly gave me, the baby I unwillingly carry?

...very awkward. And it was far too impossible.

Ivan wouldn't like it at all. He would hate me for giving him false accusations that he had raped me and impregnated me. He would call me a liar, an attention-seeker, and all the bad words one can come up with. And he would probably even say that I was trying to ruin his relationship with Alfred. He would hate me forever and I didn't want that. I didn't want him to hate me...

But...perhaps it was a good idea as well? Ivan wasn't the type to get easily furious over delicate matters like this, and he would try to solve the problem into a win-win situation. It would make the happiest person there is if he chose to be with me instead of Alfred. Even if he chose not to love me, I knew he could be a responsible father to my child...our child...

"Should...should I? Should I really..." I was at loss of words. Despite my flushed face, my inner self was feeling very nervous and frightened to want to agree with showing Ivan the ultrasound pictures. Mainly it was because I couldn't predict what his reaction to it would be like.

Oh, God. Why is fate playing the game so cruelly?

Most importantly...why is it me that it was playing with?

"Well...as someone who deals with a person's psychology, I wouldn't advise to it. However, I couldn't tell you not to do it, either. It's entirely up to you." He bit on his lip and forced a fake, happy smile at me. His chubby hand rest on my shoulder as he inhaled deeply and let out the air he sucked in through his nose with a loud sigh, then he patted my back with the exact same hand. "Either you chose to tell that man...err...Ivan...about it or you chose to keep it a secret...whatever the outcome might be, just know that Eva and I are always, always there for you."

No, it's impossible. I couldn't do this...I couldn't...

"You are not alone in this, Ludwig. Remember that."

With that, he left the doorsteps of my house and drove back to the coziness of his own home. I was left standing at the door with the anxiety starting to linger around in my mind. I closed the front door and leaned against it. I moved my free hand to the bulge of my stomach and started to rub it once again, as I stared at the perfect figure of an infant through the faint noise of the ultrasound picture. The memory of watching it moving on the screen came back afresh to me.

How I wished I could actually feel it moving now.

But still no movement...

I need the comfort. I need the strength. I need to not feel alone all the time.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

I received angry calls from Francis for not attending the events that our colleagues had tiredly put up for the past few months...and most notably, for being absent in two meetings since the one in December last year. I noted from my calendar that it was already the middle of March, and his calls were to remind me that there would be a meeting the next day and that if I missed it again, he wouldn't hesitate to complain about my undisciplined behavior to my boss.

However harsh he had scolded me, I took it as a sign that he was worried about me.

Some might find it funny, perhaps weird and slightly disturbed...but Francis was perhaps the only person who actually cared for me like he was my own brother. Ever since my biological brother and my only family member, Gilbert, died due to an illness he had since birth, Francis had been the closest to me, though I rarely shared half of my life with him. He was the one showing me around on how things go in our line of work and guided me through all the ups and downs of being who I am now. He was always wrongly blamed for being a pervert since he looked as if he was too suspiciously kind-hearted to anyone, but I knew well enough he was more of a protective father-figure when he acted that way.

Despite the two hours of lecture he gave over the phone, I had to admit that I wasn't that enthusiastic to attend the meeting.

The main reason...the _usual_ reason, actually...would be that I didn't want to meet Ivan. That man I used to love. I didn't want to see him pampering Alfred in his arms and whispering dirty jokes with the American as the meeting progressed. I didn't want to feel heartbroken by that sight again...

Another reason would be that the baby bump was getting difficult to hide, now that my stomach had grown into the size of a melon (at least, that was how I felt it was like...) and had deemed my trousers impossible to be buttoned and zipped. I had passed my second trimester and you don't know how thankful I was for losing the nausea and mood swings...but a bit of food craving was still there, and I still couldn't run away from the fact that I was looking fatter than I normally was.

I was supposed to get my second ultrasound tomorrow, but because of the meeting, I had to call my doctor to postpone it to the other week. After that call, I rushed out and drove off in my car to buy larger trousers at the nearest department store. I usually tailored my suits and trousers from the best tailors in Germany, but I didn't have time to even call for their help now.

I knew I needed a coat as well, out of showing professionalism in my job, but what bad luck; there were no large sizes left in the five stores I exhaustedly went to. In the end, I opted to just wear my late brother's hooded sweater over my shirt in a very poor attempt to hide my obvious bulging stomach, even if I didn't like the casual attire at all. It worked, but if one would look at my body hard enough, my cover would surely be blown.

I attended the meeting wearing that. And God knows how conscious I was about myself and how I looked like as I walked down the empty hallway that led to the alleged meeting room. The customary chamber we used to use was massive and it could house over two hundred people in it. However, Francis did mentioned in the phone that it would only involve the ones living in America and Europe; hence the smaller room.

When I arrived, almost everyone was there. They only stared at me when I opened the door, and as I closed it shut behind me, they resumed their conversations with their partners. My best friend, Feliciano, was waving at me from the other side of the room and pointing to the empty chair beside him. I just put up a hand and shook my head. It was alright sitting beside him, but his habit of continually playing with my fingers could be quite annoying. Moreover, I didn't want him to jab my sides as well...of which, of course, would hit the wrong area and all hell would certainly break loose.

Francis noticed my clumsy appearance despite trying to act formal, and his nagging was the first thing I had to endure that day. It wasn't that bad really, considering that he and the others didn't note my physical change; the main reason I wore so casually for that day's meeting. I didn't mind it at all and just listened quietly to his heavily accented voice ranting and the others giggling at us.

It didn't bother me the slightest. I had endured worst that just nags...

But what bothered me was...aside from Francis scolding me and the little verbal fight that followed after that between him and Arthur, the meeting was exceptionally silent.

Normally, everyone would want to talk and debate and ask the other person sitting nearby to shut up. This meeting, however, was like the one I had with my bosses; quiet and sure. As if jokes did not exist in time and space.

What bothered me the most was how quiet Ivan had been since the conference started...

I did mention that I didn't want to see him and at best, I should have ignored his existence in the room. But the silence he was expressing behind his soft smile was very uncommon. Usually he would be the one grinning creepily at everyone (though I always thought it was cute...), he would giggle at Francis and Arthur for fighting meaningless fights, he would kiss Alfred's cheek and tease him with words that would make that American-

Then I realized Alfred wasn't there with him.

In fact, he wasn't in the meeting room at all.

The talks and discussions didn't take long, and without the loud American, I had to admit, the meeting was a little too boring. It ended quickly than usual, and by lunchtime everyone had disband from their chatting groups and proceeded to leave for home. Feliciano asked me out for a lunch with him and his brother, but I declined...him and his brother are like annoying little kids; one idiotic, the other sarcastic. I don't last that long with them.

I remained at my seat for a moment longer, waiting for everyone to leave the room so I could get to my car without someone noticing if there was something wrong with me or my body...

Everyone left, alright...except Ivan...who was, at that time, sitting opposite my place. He was pressing on the keys of his Nokia and sending text messages to, undoubtedly, Alfred. Or maybe his sisters or his boss; I couldn't really tell. But as his eyes were attached to the screen of his phone, I could recognize that tiny hint of worry on his face.

Was it because of Alfred? Was it because of the reason he didn't attend the meeting? Was he involved in an accident, or was he just being lazy...? Or-

Ah, I didn't need to know about that American! It wasn't my business to know. But still...I hated to see Ivan looking so worried.

It was only us in the room. And I could say I felt very nervous, very awkward. I wanted to go first, but knowing Ivan, he would certainly stop me in my tracks to start a conversation with me, and that would only delay my escape from him. Yes, it must be a good thing if he would want to talk to me; I would certainly be more than willing to listen...but a traumatic event wasn't easily dispersed from one's memory. Especially since he doesn't remember what happened...

I waited for Ivan to leave, but he didn't seem to want to. He just stayed there with his phone in his hand, eyes locking at the bright little screen, sighing to himself every few seconds. I made myself busy arranging papers and files into my briefcase, ignoring the awful deadly silence in between us. As my hands went from paper to paper, a small glossy paper came into view...and it was the ultrasound picture.

It wasn't there by accident. I did place it inside my briefcase, if I ever needed to show it to someone. And by someone, I meant him. Ivan.

I held on the photograph and stared at it; just like how I did when I first had it in my hand. The picture never changed, of course; it still showed the fetus floating in its sac, one of its hands opened with its five fingers visible in an eerie ghastly shape; as if it wanted to grab something...At that moment the idea of getting a second scan of the baby sounded so intriguing. I wanted to see how far it had developed, whether it's a girl or a boy, if I had made it healthy enough...

I understand that having such feelings towards a child I didn't want in the first place was out of the question. I know I shouldn't have felt compassion to a baby that came to exist because someone raped me. But to experience something so delicate, so challenging...I couldn't help but to emote the happiness I had for this, silently inside my mind. It was a mixture of emotions swelling in my chest, but I could tell that the ones surfacing were mainly positive.

I didn't realized I was smiling to myself…until I saw Ivan sitting next to me; his purple irises glowing eagerly…fascinated by the look on my face, perhaps.

"You're still here, Ludwig? Aren't you hungry? You'll miss lunch." A smile…and I was left speechless.

Time suddenly became slow; gravity seemed to be defying me from the inside. It really took me a while to see that Ivan wasn't holding his phone and texting on it anymore, and a longer time to grasp his presence on the chair right beside me. And so very close…

I clumsily shove the ultrasound image into the pocket of my sweater, and zipped my briefcase; trying my best not to meet those mesmerizing eyes. "A-ah…_ja,_ y-you're right! I think I should go home now...I-I'm sorry if I bothered you..." I got up from my seat without doing it as carefully as I used to. It's alright; I just wanted to go before Ivan could-

Too late.

It's always too late when it's Ivan...

He managed to hold on my arm in a tight grip, and I was stopped and somewhat jerked backwards. I lost my footing and was about to collapse to my side, but Ivan was fast...he was always so fast...His other hand captured me and, with a swift move, I was pulled closer to him. I then found myself sitting on his lap in an instant.

It's coming back to me again...

I shivered in fear when I felt his breath brushing against the back of my neck. I closed my eyes shut and bit on my lip; my body twitched slightly, wanting to get out of this room, away from him...I didn't want it to repeat everything again. The rape, the heartbreak...

"Ludwig. Ludwig...you have to be careful, _da_? Who knows what else you'll injure if you fell down~" He giggled and held me even closer. No, no I didn't want this...

I tried to wriggle myself away from him, nearly crying as I did so. But I was weak. I was weak to his strength, to his voice, to his touch...I couldn't move away no matter how much I wanted to. But as his hand snaked towards the front of my stomach, I found that courage to push him away. Call it instinct, call it apprehension...what I knew was; I didn't want him to know...

Or did I...?

"I...I'm sorry, Ivan...I didn't mean to...I was...I was just startled..." I forced a smile on my face, assuring and started to turn my feet away; wishing for nothing but the open door. "_D-danke!_ I'll be careful...f-from now on..."

"Ah, wait. Ludwig! Why not we have a drink together? I'm waiting for Alfred to come and have lunch with me, but it seemed he'll be a bit late...that little brat..." Ivan chuckled and again, he took my hand. This time a little gentler...and I didn't fight back. "He told me he's sick, so it might take a while before he comes. What do you say?"

Was this a chance? A chance for me to talk to him, to tell him exactly what happened that night? Was this a chance for me to tell him that he's the father to my unborn child?

Will he accept me the way I am? After all that he did...

Oh, God.

Why is fate playing the game so cruelly?

"Come on! Coffee or tea is fine too, if you don't want to drink beer! I know a nice café nearby that serves the best latte... Oh, and don't worry about Alfred! I'll give him a message where I'll be and let him meet me there." He tugged on my hand in a child-like way; the smile that I loved so much never for once ceased from his face.

Maybe...Maybe it wasn't so bad. What else can be worse than this?

Maybe I won't be alone anymore if I did tell him...

"Ah...a-alright then..." I nodded to him. I could feel my face heating up but I tried my best to hide away just so he wouldn't see those blush patching on my cheeks. Even if his hand gripping mine was making me extremely uncomfortable, the thought of being with him...and the thought of telling him the truth, about the baby inside me...

Despite what happened...

It wouldn't be so bad. I knew it wouldn't.

The café that he introduced to me was a very simple one, located a few minutes' walk away from where we were having our meeting...and even for that short walk, my back had strained slightly from tiredness. There weren't many people sitting in there, though, but I was grateful for that. At least no one would give me odd glances; had they noticed how off my body was. I was also thankful that Ivan didn't question about my appearance either.

We sat at one of the tables outside, right underneath a young oak that would use some trimming before it could cause trouble to the traffic. Ivan ordered the latte he mentioned, but I only ordered lemonade. I wanted to ask the waiter to put in ginger and salt instead of sugar, but I refrained myself from ordering such a weird concoction. If Ivan had to suspect anything, I'd rather just tell him than giving hints.

The few minutes we spent with Ivan talking about his work, his sisters, his boss...and with me listening quietly to him. I didn't hear half of the words and jokes he told me as my mind kept going back and forth; whether I should give up the shame and tell him the truth...or admit my defeat and keep this baby away from him forever. It wasn't an easy decision that I would make, and whatever the outcome may be, it would never win any sides. If he accepted, what would become of him? What would our colleagues say? But, if he denied everything I said...

I need the strength. I really do...

My hand found itself into the pocket of Gilbert's sweater, and the ultrasound photo immediately touched my fingers. I held my hand in there for a moment longer, feeling safe and ensured by doing so. The confidence that I had sneaked back slowly into me, and I felt that was the right time that Ivan should know.

He should know. It's his baby and he should know. There's a risk that he would hate me, maybe even the child I'm carrying...maybe he would even want me to abort it...But I still wanted him to know that he's going to be a father.

I don't want to be alone in this.

"Ivan...? I...There's umm...there's something I wanted to ask you..." I started the conversation when I was sure he wasn't continuing his own talk. As cautious as I was, I still couldn't hide the edginess and embarrassment from my voice.

"Oh? What is it, Ludwig?"

"D-do you like children?" Oh, God. I wanted to slap myself for asking such a stupid question. But seeing him smile made me feel a bit relaxed. He nodded and answered; "_Da_! I love children. If I could...I would want one of my own with Alfred. Heh, but that's a bit impossible since he's a man..."

I swallowed nervously. I'd rather have the American stayed out of our conversation, but it couldn't be helped. I stared down at the glass containing my untouched lemonade, and slowly pulled the photo out of my pocket, hiding it under the table first. I steered my glance away from my drink and at the image, peeking at me on my lap.

Ivan loved children...no, he wanted a child of his own. And I was carrying his child...I had to tell him about it.

"Ivan...the truth is, I..."

This was it. I had to tell him.

"Ivan, I'm having...I'm actually..."

Now or never. I don't want to be alone in this anymore.

"I'm actually pre-"

"_**IVAN!**_"

I swallowed once again. I recognized that voice. Anyone would...

It was Alfred. And he was storming at us with a furious look stapled on his usually cheerful face. Was he suspecting something bad about Ivan and me, sitting together here at the same table, face to face? I quickly shove the photo back into my pocket out of reflex, and cowered a little at my seat. I almost cursed in my heart for the untimely interruption, but I thought...perhaps I could still tell Ivan about it after Alfred had gone away...or maybe tomorrow...or someday else if I could catch up with him somewhere...

Alfred came near us, but he didn't bellow angrily at me like I expected he would. Instead, he went straight towards Ivan and hugged him. He was sobbing...but I didn't feel the need to know the reason behind it. Something just felt...off about this...

I reluctantly watch Ivan returning the hug he received and whispering soothing words in his native language into Alfred's ear. I was automatically forgotten it seemed...though it wasn't the first, not even close to being the last. It took quite some time for Alfred to calm down and by then Ivan finally pushed him gently away from him; smiling as he looked into his lover's eyes.

"What's the matter, Alfred? Is there something wrong...? Are you still sick?" Ivan asked Alfred in that soft voice of his. He placed a palm on the other's forehead in a mother-like manner, but Alfred slapped his hand away and pouted. It's childish of me to admit, but I was a little irritated by Alfred's gesture.

"No, fatso! I'm not sick! ...Well, maybe I am...I uhh...Fuck! I don't know how to say this, Ivan...I'm not sure what you'll do...Ivan, I'm..." Alfred smiled a bit, a shyness that wasn't really him started to emerge on his expression.

"What is it, Alfred...? Just say it...if it's something bad, we'll go for a check-up later and-"

"Shut your trap; let me finish! I...I already went to the clinic...D-damn it, Ivan! I'm...I'm pregnant!"

...no. No, no, oh God, no.

Tell me that's not true...

"R-really? Ah, Alfred! This is great news! H-how many months had it been?"

Too late. I was too late.

"Tch! You can't even remember when you fucked me? Your birthday, fatso, your birthday! And don't be so fucking happy about that!"

It's always too late when it's Ivan...

"Ludwig, Ludwig! You heard that, _da_? Alfred's pregnant! I'm going to be a father!"

I didn't hear him at all. All was quiet when I gritted my teeth silently, hiding the anger and frustration inside. My eyes were opened wide in shock and I was staring blankly at the surface of the table. Cold sweat came rolling down at the sides of my face, as my breathing hitched in choked gasps and my heart skipped several beats. My body trembled and I gripped on my knees as an effort to keep myself steady and to prevent myself from fainting.

The pain was too much. I couldn't take it...I lost, for the second time. This time it's final. I would really be alone. Raped, abused, impregnated...and Ivan didn't know. He didn't know what he had done to me.

Far too late.

There's no question to it; fate is cruel. Fate is unfair. So unfair...

"Ludwig?"

"Ha..._j-j-ja_?" I forced myself...no matter how hard it was...I forced myself to look up at him, at them; swallowing back the desperate tears from falling. I gave him a quivered smile and as I did that, my hands gripped my knees more. I couldn't take the pain at all. "Ah...yes. C-congratulations, Alfred...Ih-Ivan..."

I didn't know what else to do but to hold back my frustration and sadness, and fake a smile to them both. Ivan looked so happy when he thanked me; when he embraced Alfred so lovingly; when he kissed Alfred's cheek affectionately...I would have all that if I had told him sooner. There's a small chance, but it was supposed to be me. I deserved that hug, that kiss...for what I was doing for him...for what he did to me.

I would have all that. But I was too late.

He wouldn't know. And I'm all alone in this. I'm alone.

"We should celebrate this! Come, Ludwig, let's have lunch together!" Ivan lent his hand to me. I flinched a bit at the gesture, but I quickly shook my head to cover it up.

"It's...it's alright. Y-you two can have fun..." I stammered, but Ivan and Alfred were drowned in their own joy to even notice that I was at the brink of tears.

"G-goodbye, Ivan..."

"_Da! Poka_, Lud- oh, wait...here!" Ivan searched his pockets and took out a few notes, and placed them in front of me. "The drinks are on me! Thanks again, Ludwig. Now, my little Capitalist...let's tell everyone the good news!"

"Oy, oy! Don't call me that! You don't like me calling you a Commie, I don't see why you should-"

I let them walk away from the café...from me. I let them walk away in happiness, while I sat there blanketed in sadness. I would have just let all my emotions out, now that they were not around...but I held it back. I always hold back...

That's why I was always alone. Always too late...

The amount of money that Ivan placed on the table was sufficient enough to pay for our drinks. It even had a few change. But that was all there was to it...my pain, my grief...that's what it's worth.

All my sacrifices...that's all they worth.

I vaguely remembered what I did after that. I got up from my seat and just left without calling the waiter. My back was hurting, but I ignored it when I walked my car, started the engine and drove all the way back home. I was in a daze when I drove; my mind was a haze and I didn't know what I was thinking at that moment. I was lucky to get home in such a state, but I didn't care...

Nothing really mattered anymore now that I lost.

Lost and lonely. Ivan would never know about his child; he would never know about what he did to me.

Tears started to flow down my cheeks endlessly as I closed the front door behind me, stepped inside and took off Gilbert's sweater. The ultrasound picture fell off the pocket and onto the floor, but I didn't pick it up. The soft mattress of the bed was what I wished for to relief the pain at the back of my waist...nonetheless, I opted for the couch.

I carefully sat down on the cushion and rested my back, sighing softly as the ache slowly whispered away. But tears still flowed down...and there's nothing I could do to stop it.

I was such a coward. If only I didn't hold back, if only I was brave enough...

Oh, God. Fate is so cruel, so unfair. I lost the man that I loved. And he wouldn't know...oh, God. Oh, God. Please tell me that it's not true...please...I was alone, I was all alone...It's impossible. I couldn't...I...

A wail and soft sobs accompanied me as I lay down on my side. I curled up into a ball, crying like a lost boy in the middle of nowhere...wishing for nothing but to end the suffering. I only wanted everything to be normal again.

"Stupid...I'm...I'm so stupid..." I whispered to no one. I wanted to convince myself that it was going to be alright...that everything would pass by and everything would be forgotten. But how could I? After all the dreadful events that happened to me, how could I?

If only I wasn't so concerned when Ivan was drunk at that party, if only I wasn't such a coward and keeping my feelings to myself, if only I had acted faster...none of these would have happened.

I was so stupid. I was...alone. So alone.

Fate knows how to play its game. And however cruel and unfair it is, it still played its game with me. And that was then...that I felt something.

My sobs died down right away. I was sure I felt something a few seconds ago...though I wasn't sure if it was my stomach grumbling out of the lunch I missed...or...

I felt it again. I sat up, slowly wiping the wetness on my cheeks with the end of my sleeve. I looked down at the round bump that stuck out from the shirt I was wearing. Something blissful went past my mind; suddenly, I was smiling. It wasn't really a happy smile, not that close to a sad one either. It was...it felt like, I had accomplished something good.

The baby...the baby was kicking.

Did it felt my distress...? Was I making it worry?

I gave a long sigh and placed a hand on my stomach. I was waiting for another kick, encouraging the baby to do so in my heart silently. When it hit me right at the palm of my hand, I automatically said, "Hello." I shuddered and smiled. The smile I had lost for months...

More tears escaped the corner of my eyes, though they now were reflecting delight instead of sorrow. I held on the bump with both hands now, getting a few slow responses from the baby.

Suddenly...suddenly, I didn't feel so alone.

"I was waiting for you...And only now you kicked? How naughty..." Tears continued to flow down and there's nothing I could do to stop it. I didn't think I need to.

"I-I was...I'm...I'm so sorry...I'm sorry I didn't tell your father...I was so scared, so nervous...I-I was too late. He should know...he should know about you...M-mommy is stupid, _ja_?"

I felt it moving more and I managed a few giggles at the ticklish feeling it gave inside my skin. The odd laughter and constant hushing words I was giving was making me look like a lunatic after all. But, it didn't matter.

I held on a little longer, closing my eyes to indulge myself deeper in this blissful feeling. Maybe...it wasn't really that bad. It was probably the worst to be left with a rape child, who will never know what happened to its mother, what its father had done...but what else can be any worse?

Ivan doesn't love me. He loved someone else.

But it didn't matter. I have my baby with me. Something that Ivan gave; something that I will cherish.

I wasn't alone after all.

"You're not alone in this, Ludwig..." I whispered to myself, as my eyes became tired to shed tears. I closed them and waited for sleep to drift me away in this content moment. I was frustrated, angered and depressed, but what else could I do?

"You're never alone..." After I said those words, sleep took over me and I lay down on the couch again.

And until now, I'm not sure if I was whispering them for myself...or my child. Ivan's child.

Our child.

Despite all the pain it caused me...it was worth it.

.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

**A/N:** _It's been a while since I updated. An idiotic RusAme fan commented stupidity on this fanfic, but I'm not that disturbed. Heh, I've seen worst than that, unfortunately. She had to try harder._

_Anyway, I apologise for the angst on Ludwig. Again. Like I said, since the first chapter...this is not a happy story. I'll just ensure you three things, though; Ludwig will keep on being that walking depressing ad, Alfred will get his share of angst one way or another, and it's still a RusGer fanfic, no matter what. Screw RusAme. That pairing really sucks._

_I managed to name Lud's private doctor. And if you're not a big fan of mpreg, but you're still reading the story, I suggest you to stop here and go no further.  
_


	5. Fate plays it unfairly

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It was the middle of April.

And that was when I found my favourite spot in the garden next to the building that placed my office, as well as my colleagues'. I never did venture the vast garden before this, but the need to relax at some place quiet during the meeting breaks had eventually brought me there. There were a few benches in the garden, but the one under the small linden tree that overlooks a large patch of flowers was the spot I adored the most.

That day, I sat there quietly, munching on my packed sandwich, thinking of nothing out of the ordinary except at how beautiful the cornflowers contrasting the rest of the red-yellow-white flowers in the patch. My free hand idly rubbed on my growing baby bump, now a little larger than the last time I attended a meeting, and as usual, it was a bit too hard to hide it. But I managed to, somehow...since I started to brave myself to buy maternity clothes; as embarrassing as that sounded...

Talking about the fetus growing inside me made me remember the second ultrasound I had a week ago.

To be honest, I was very reluctant to go for a check-up. I didn't have the heart to see my baby again, after the misfortune that befell me...after hearing that Alfred was pregnant with Ivan's baby... Nonetheless, I convinced myself that I needed to check on the baby anyway, just to know if it's doing alright. I made an appointment two days after the supposed date and arrived at the hospital three hours earlier than expected. My doctor noticed the sadness on my face, it seemed, but she didn't question about it and proceeded to get me my treatment.

I probably had bore her with the things that made me unhappy, or so I thought... But she knew better. She always did.

When the familiar machine was pushed into the room and I was, again, asked to lie down on the bed with my shirt up. My pregnant stomach protruded out when I did; leaving no traces of the sculptured abdominal muscles I used to work so hard on; and I couldn't express how shameful I felt at that moment, even if Dr. Eva assured me that it was okay and that she's my doctor, and I shouldn't be ashamed of exposing myself to her. She took a few measurements of the faint dark line on the bump and around my waist and jotted down the values on her notepad, before she switched the ultrasound scanner on and used it at the region below my navel.

I was, again, greeted by my baby's image on the monitor screen. This time, its shape was clearer; I could see its bone structure (as scary as one could imagine!), its brain and its heart beating inside its ribcage. Its hands and legs were even more defined than the first time I saw it on that machine, and they were still moving.

"H-hey-" I tried to say 'hello', just like that day when I first felt it kicked against the wall of my abdomen, but my voice instantly quivered and the rest of the syllable was shaped into a coarse whisper. I was nearly crying at that point of time, and I knew it wasn't because of the joy of being able to see my baby again.

I was sad that Ivan didn't know about it. He would never know that he had a child with me...

Fate is cruel. Fate is unfair.

And I hate it for doing this to me...

My doctor must had been worried at how I looked; biting my lower lip so hard to hold back the tears that was threatening to flow out, as I watched the screen in silence. And I understood well enough that she knew the reason I looked that way.

She quickly changed the angle of the scanner in her hand and grabbed my attention by pointing her finger to the monitor, directly at what I supposed was the lower part of the baby's body, since I could see of what looked like two legs bending in a heart-like shape, connected at the tiny set of feet and toes.

"You may not see it as clear as the fetus's spine, but that little tortoise-like shape is the baby's genitals. And, my, it's erected..." She giggled at her own words, but the hint came to me a bit slow.

"D-doctor...are you s-saying the baby is...is a boy?" I whispered; surprise visible in my voice.

"Yes. It is...oh, dear. I'm sorry if you didn't want to know the baby's gender yet...oh, dear, I'm so sorry, Ludwig..." She started to apologize, but I shook my head in denial, telling her that I didn't mind knowing. In fact, I think it felt good knowing that I'm carrying a baby boy.

My eyes stared back at the screen and I let the tears flow away silently without any attempts to wipe it off my cheeks. The sadness that engulfed me before was slowly dispersing and the typical happiness of being a mother, I think, was beginning to take over. I was carrying a boy. I was going to have a son.

Ivan was going to have a son yet he didn't know...

It didn't matter. The least I could do was to ensure the baby grow up to be a healthy, intelligent child. The least I could do was to have my son carry Ivan's name.

Ivan would want that. Ivan would love me for that, had he known...

It's worth it. It wasn't enough, it was unfair, but it's worth it.

But still...

Despite trying to indulge in the tranquility of my surrounding in that garden; the pretty sight of flowers gently waved along the afternoon breeze, the wind rustled the leaves of the linden tree quietly, the birds chirped to each other in an almost melodic hum... Despite trying to convince myself to be happy with my son, I still couldn't keep my mind off Ivan and Alfred, and their unborn child completely.

What happened that day; the scenes I saw, the words I heard...they would forever scar me.

Fate plays it unfairly, I know. Maybe I was meant to experience all these to compensate for my old sins. I would accept that, I really would...but to think that I had to pay it together with Ivan's love...

I was so aggrieved by the burden of being neglected from being loved, and being alone in loving someone.

It was so unfair.

The grievance was even worse when I first came into the meeting that day. As usual, I was dressed in a less formal attire; a large black leather jacket that looked out of season that I zipped halfway over my polo shirt to cover my bulging stomach, and a pair of cotton trousers I grabbed from the maternity store. I did expect, one way or another, that Francis would come and nag at me for the ridiculous things I wear. And the others would snicker at how funny or odd it looked, to have a grown man scolded for the clothes he wore...

I didn't get any naggings when I stepped into the room. In fact, my presence wasn't noticed at all.

Almost everyone in the room was circling something...or someone...at the other end of the round table. I didn't bother to go and peek at what managed to catch everyone's attention, despite being a bit curious myself. But when I heard Alfred's signature laugh, in between the murmurs and giggles, I didn't think I would want to go and join the crowd at all.

My assumption was that Ivan and Alfred just announced about their great news to the whole world, and it was confirmed when Feliciano came to me, nearly skipping in excitement.

"Ludwig! Ludwig! Have you heard about it? Alfred and Ivan are having a baby!" He said with such enthusiasm. The young auburn-haired boy took my hand before I could stop him, and carefully tug my arm as a move to encourage me to follow him to the crowd.

"_A-ach_- Feli...Feli, it's okay...I already know..." I tried to reason with him, as he continued to pull on my hand. I really didn't want to go there. I didn't want to see Alfred and Ivan smiling at each other as the others compliment and congratulate them for their child...

It could have been me...it was supposed to be me...

I did everything for him. Just for him. He should know...

So very unfair.

"Come on, let's meet them then! I heard Ivan's planning a baby shower on Alfred's birthday! That's so sweet of him, don't you think? They said there's going to be fireworks, and music, and food-"

"_Nein!_ Feli...I don't want to meet them! ...tired! I'm tired. I need to sit down, so please..." I realized I said those words a bit too loud and in my deep voice, it somehow sounded like I scolded my poor friend. He did let go of me, though the way his eyes darted and his eyebrows furrowed left me partially guilty and embarrassed with what I did. He gave a small nod and turned around, walked a few steps away from me and then he continued his animated stride towards the cluster of people.

I was left alone, as always. I went to an empty seat in the other corner of the table and carefully sat down, making sure I didn't look ridiculous when I did so, and sighed when I feel the surge of comfort on my back and my feet as I rested against the chair's curved splat and relaxed my legs. I unzipped my jacket as I didn't feel the need to hide the bump now that the table could do the job, and started to get busy.

I tried. God, I tried to concentrate on anything but them. Anything but Alfred and Ivan and their child and all the joyful appraisals they get from everyone.

For all that happened to me, for all the pain I had to endure...it should have been me. My son deserved those compliments, those attention too...My son deserved his father's love the most.

Alas, there I was. Sitting silently in a corner; forgotten and deserted for a few good hours. Almost half of the meeting time was filled with the delightful story of Ivan and his lover finally having a baby, and all my paperwork that I worked so hard on wasn't taken seriously, even if I risked my back and my sleep from sitting too long in my office, trying to finish it.

The paperwork didn't matter, really. I was one to put too much effort on work sometimes, that I didn't really took care of my own well-being when I did so...thus, I would only blame myself for working too hard on it. But the fact that no one knew what happened to me that October night, no one knew that I was carrying a child that wouldn't know who his father is...that was what's making me feel so alone.

I know that, if I told them about the incident, the possibility of being condemned and ridiculed for getting myself in trouble, the humiliation of being raped and abused despite being known as a strong man, and the fact that Ivan would never like me...

The risk was too high. But I don't know how long I could keep it a secret...with all these jealousy and silent anger I had for the whole messed-up situation.

Yes, I was jealous of Alfred for winning Ivan's love. I felt sick to the thought of them having a baby of their own. I was lamenting on my own bad luck for the loneliness. I have no more tears to shed for the confusion I was in, no more love to feel comfortable with. Everything was so unfair.

At least...at least I have my son. If anything, that would only be the reason to my survival, my reason to live and let live. No matter what, I would be with my son till the very end...

I was daydreaming again, obviously, and a tiny yelp snapped me awake from my deep thoughts. My first initial assumption was that someone made that sound, either from falling down or from seeing something that surprised them, but when my vision became more alert, I realized it came from a puppy; sitting in front of me with its tail wagging side to side.

The puppy was barely six months old, and from the looks of it, my guess was that it was a white German shepherd. It was sitting in front of the flower patch, staring at me with its bright brown eyes. I smiled at the animal. It's been a long time since I took a dog as a pet. I used to have three pet dogs years ago...but after Gilbert's death, I had practically given up on having pets. The Doberman, Berlitz, died shortly after Gilbert due to an illness of its own, while the other two, the German shepherd, Blackie, and the Golden Retriever, Aster, was given up for adoption. I never tried to own any pet ever since.

But this little puppy sure knew how to make me smile contentedly and feel excited inside. I haven't petted a dog for a very long time, let alone carry one in my arms. I bent down as much as my baby bump would allow and put out my left hand to the puppy. It was hesitant at first...then it slowly came closer, sniffing curiously at my fingers.

Just as I was about to touch it, it retreated back, looking at me with those cute eyes again. It gave another small yap and started to show signs of wanting to play or...wanting something to eat. I looked at the half-eaten sandwich I held in my right hand and gave another smile to myself.

"Here. I don't think my son would mind sharing his food with you." I chuckled and threw the sandwich onto the ground, of which the puppy happily grabbed with its small canine teeth and started to munch on it. I spread my legs open a little and bent down more, finally managing to pet the dog's little head.

I sighed; watching the puppy eating only made me wonder where its owner was. There wasn't a collar around its neck, but its soft white fur was enough to tell me that it had been cleaned and cared for quite well. I would have brought it home if I knew it had no owner. But my house hadn't been in a tidy state for quite some time now. Even if I did hire a housekeeper to do half of the cleaning job for me once in a while, it wasn't really the same like it used to be.

I used to be a very organized man and every day I would at least spend three to four hours on cleaning every room in my house. I had slowed down a bit since Gilbert's death and I only spend my weekends and spare time to clean up; I didn't even touch some rooms and left them as they were. Especially Gilbert's room.

And since that tragic night, I rarely clean anything much except wiping what dust I could see on the furniture. The rest; I left it for the cleaner to do. Perhaps I should be grateful that I had spared the tiring job that I was so obsessive with and hired someone else to do it instead...but not everything was cleaned perfectly in that lonely house of mine.

This coming weekend. I thought; a simple spring cleaning won't be too hard to accomplish this weekend. I would hire the housekeeper again to help me and this time, I had to make sure I tidied up everything. Besides, the baby and I would use some exercise.

"And when my house is clean enough, you will come and stay with us...won't you?"

A smile formed itself softly on my face as my hand continued to pet the puppy. It either ignored me or didn't seem to mind the touch; as it fixed its eyes on the food, finishing my sandwich in slow but eager bites. I was sure I said those words to the puppy, but my sad heart was whispering them helplessly to Ivan.

I loved him so much and yet, he didn't know.

No matter what...there's nothing I could do about it.

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My weekend was spent with cleaning up the house thoroughly together with the two housekeepers I hired. I wouldn't mind doing it alone, but with my baby kicking directly at my bladder almost every time and the backache that kept making me wince and wishing nothing more but a warm pillow to aid it, it was a bit impossible. Every damaged or unused item in the house was collected to be thrown or given away. Half of them belonged to my late brother; mostly his clothes which were useless to me since I don't fit in them. I am practically two sizes bigger than Gilbert; even without the pregnant belly.

I know someone would call me heartless for doing so, but I always believed when someone is gone, the best memories of that person do not live on materialistic objects, but more to the experiences we shared with him or her. I had too many memories of my brother that I kept in my photo album and in my heart. I thought...I probably didn't need to keep his belongings as if I was waiting for him to come home anymore.

The spring cleaning went on for the whole day, and every few hours I would sit down on the couch to relax by back, while having some quiet time with my unborn son. It sounded lonely, I know. But I couldn't say in the right words how peaceful I felt in those intervals.

As if the world was only looking at us. And I didn't feel alone when that moment occurred.

My son knew how to make me feel very calm.

My housekeepers might have had a hint of what was going on with me, they might know that I was carrying a baby despite being a man in their eyes...but they chose to mind their own business, which I think was a fair move. As long as I pay their salary, I'm sure they wouldn't complain about anything...

Together we cleaned Gilbert's bedroom, leaving nothing but furniture in there. We cleaned the attic as well, the bathrooms, the kitchen cabinets and the storeroom. I found far too many things that I didn't think I would want to keep...including the many bottles of antidepressants and painkillers that I owned since that day when I thought I needed them.

Ever since I knew I was carrying a baby, I hadn't touch one single pill in those containers. And I probably didn't have to any longer. While the maids were busy putting out the bags and boxes of various unneeded objects at the front of my house, I went into the kitchen to meet with my old medications again.

As I stood there in front of the kitchen sink, I opened every bottle and lined them up on the edge. I smiled a bit to myself after I had done so, and idly rubbed my stomach. There was something odd at that moment, a strange feeling as if I was parting with an old friend who had been there for me when I needed it. But I have to sacrifice that strange 'friendship' for the sake of my son and my future life, though it didn't fill me with dread or sorrow at all.

I turned on the tap and let the water flow into the basin and down the drain, before I carefully pour the capsules into the sink. One by one, I emptied the bottles and let the pills clog the grinder. As I finished, I minced them up and let the water do the rest of making them disappear from my sight.

The relief I felt at that moment was indescribable. It felt like one bad part of my story was taken away for good and I didn't have to repeat telling it to the world again.

I was at peace. I felt nothing like I did before.

Even if fate was playing with my life so unfairly, at that particular moment, nothing seemed to matter.

"Mr. Beilschmidt? Our working hours are over...umm, is there anything else we could do for you before we leave...?" The eldest of the two servants, the one I always hired, came to me just as I washed my hands. I turned off the tap and wiped my hands dry.

"Ah...I don't think there's anything else...except my own room with that messy closet of mine, but I can clean it myself. It would be extremely embarrassing if I asked you lovely ladies to do it for me..." I gave out a brief chuckle and they giggled along.

"But...if you could help me throw these on your way out, I'd appreciate it." I accumulate all the empty containers from the counter into my hands and gave them to the maids. Strange looks made their way towards my face. Maybe it was strange for them to see so many empty medicine bottles in the possession of a pregnant man; maybe they were just surprised that I actually had medications...

Either way, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all.

As they took their leave, I was left alone once more. I waited until their car disappeared down the driveway; which was now partially hidden by the piles of boxes and trash bags at the edge of my lawn waiting for the garbage truck to come around the next morning, before closing the door and locking it.

I retreated back to my bedroom after eating the hefty meal I cooked for dinner that day. I was in such a good mood that I somehow figured out why I loved cooking in the first place. I looked out the window that overlooked my small garden; as I dressed out of my sweat-soaked shirt and wore a bathrobe instead; and sighed at the beautiful sight of the purple sunset sky. For some reason, I couldn't wait to share this wonderful scenery with my son, once he's grown up enough to know what a sunset is.

The little one kicked me in one strong jolt in what I supposed was an excited response to my inner thoughts, and I returned it with a blush and a very rare smile on my face. "You'd like that, _ja_? I can't wait to be with you. Even if your father isn't with me- I mean, with us now, I'll be happy enough to know that you'll stay with me till the end..." I hushed those words to the baby; my hands cradled my round abdomen gently.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't know exactly what I should do once my son is born. Even though maternity books and the internet could aid me in how to take care of a baby and how to raise a child, not one of them ever mentioned the feelings and emotions of going through it.

None of them said anything about what I should feel...what I should really feel about the baby.

I lived my life following direct instructions and manuals. Even something as simple as sleeping initially required me to read through a book on how to sleep correctly. If anything, I was worried on this matter of delivering my son to the world and raise him...more than the past heartaches, fear and anger I felt.

Maybe I would learn it in time. Time is what I have excess of.

I distracted my mind away once again and proceeded to look through my closet for a quick clean-up before I head to bed for the much needed liberation from the pain of walking and standing all day long. There was nothing much to clean up in there, really, except old shoes and coats that my brother bought for me, which looked too fashionable for my taste.

Just as I was about to close the door to the closet, after taking out the things that I deemed worthless, I noticed a familiar object. It was hidden under my many suits neatly hung on the bar organized in their respective colours, and only one corner of the object was peeking out from the shadows.

I carefully bent down to retrieve the item. The familiarity became clearer as I pulled it out and nested it in the crook of my arm.

It was the box I hid in my closet three months ago. The box that contained my present for Ivan, and all the things that linked my love to him; even if he didn't see it. Even if he didn't know.

I took the box, sat down on the heavenly mattress and placed it next to me. I opened it up and slowly took out its contents; one by one, I lay them in neat rows on the bed. It was interesting to see the silly items I kept in that box...Ivan's photographs I took throughout our encounters, a glass sculpture of sunflowers in a vase that he gave me when we first met, the leather gloves he gave me a number of winters past when I had my hands out in the unforgiving cold, a few birthday cards and well-wishing charms...

Every single thing that he gave me, every single thing that I made for him was inside that box.

Including that unfinished scarf.

I gave out a heavy sigh and took the scarf onto my lap. The only thing that made it incomplete was the sunflower design that I planned to sew on one of the ends of the scarf. I contemplated whether I should finish it, not that it would mean anything if I did...

"I was supposed to give this to your father..." I started an empty conversation with the baby. I didn't mind if he didn't listened and if he didn't respond...I just wanted to have someone to talk to.

"Your father loves to wear scarves...even in a hot day! It's actually pretty comical to see him sweating but still refused to take off that scarf around his neck..." I giggled as I recalled that little memory. I wonder how many more of them stayed with me, how many of them I had already discarded...

"He didn't like it when people touch his scarf. I didn't know why though. Maybe he was hiding something under that scarf...or maybe he was just really cold..." I casually took one end of the scarf and the sunflower ornament.

"...I still remembered the first time I touched it. I was stupid that time; I didn't know...my hand got slapped so hard. It really hurt...but he...your father...he told me he was sorry...he even massaged my hand that moment...saying sorry...again and again...I know he didn't mean it. He's such a sweet man, and he still is...

"Gilbert...your dead uncle...he used to sneak into our offices when we had our meetings...and one day he went into Ivan's office and dipped your father's unused scarf into the toilet bowl...he's such a naughty bastard, I tell you! Well...Ivan found out and...and he got so mad...he actually strangled your uncle with the wet scarf." Another giggle managed its way out from me. "Poor, poor, Gilbert...he passed out in the hallway...he was left there for hours and he smelt like pee...

"There's also one time...when your father was drinking coffee in a meeting...the coffee was too hot and he accidentally dropped the mug. Of course...the drink spilled onto his coat and scarf..." I giggled again, this time a little louder. "He quickly ran to the bathroom and he was...and he was screaming 'My scarf! My scarf is dying!'...imagine that! Out of everything that he could have said when hot coffee got spilled on him..."

It was really amusing that I remembered far too many petty memories of Ivan that one could easily forget. Yet, here I was...recalling every single detail of it. Even if I didn't want to, my mind kept reeling back those memories of Ivan that left me flustered, that made me smile...

As if I didn't want to forget about them.

"He had so many of those scarves...some of them in one plain colour...some with a checkered pattern and lines and flowers and other odd designs." I opened the sewing box and took out the contents I needed from it. I pulled the string through the needle and was ready to sew the sunflower on the scarf.

"Most of them are long scarves that always end to his knees when he wore them...sometimes he would tie his scarf into a very cute bow...it really suited him, these scarves..."

I pushed the tip of the needle into the felt and took a bit of the wool of the scarf, before I turned it around and pulled the needle and string out. I repeat the move until I was sure the first stitch was strong enough without it being undone before I tied a small knot and continued with a second stitch. Then the third. Then the fourth and fifth...

"...maybe it's because he had so many of them...maybe...that's why he didn't seem to like my presents. M-maybe he even threw them away because he doesn't want to wear the ugly scarves that I made...but it's alright, _ja?_ At least...at least...I know I tried...I-"

The words came out of my mouth in shuddered whispers and it took me a while to realize that I was crying. Drops of tears hit the surface of the scarf and I quickly wiped them away with my free hand. The baby replied to my sudden silence with a very faint movement, I returned it with a sad smile.

Everything's going to be alright. I have my son with me.

No matter what...

"D-don't worry! This...this is the last scarf I will give to your father...Then...when you grow up...I'll make one for you. Just for you. I'll...I'll put a picture of a puppy on it...a car...a-anything you want!" A few desperate chuckles came out from me as I rubbed my stomach affectionately. I don't know why...but placing my hand on my hardened round abdomen was surprisingly soothing.

"I promise...I'll make one for you, just like Ivan's...I promise..."

That night, I spent my time talking to the baby while my unskillful hands continued to finish the scarf. As if the baby could hear me, he kept on pushing against my stomach from the inside; making me smile every time he did so.

I finished that scarf right before my bedtime. I took a good look at its yellow and purple patterns with the sunflower stitched on one end before I carefully folded it and placed it back into the box; together with the other items I lined on the bed.

Everything between Ivan and I. Everything between us was now entombed in that one box, engraved in my mind. Perhaps I didn't need them anymore...just like how I did to Gilbert's belongings; I ought to throw them away as well...

Or, I could give them to Ivan.

It was for the best. Even if these things could do nothing now that I was too late to tell him that I loved him, too late to tell him that I was pregnant with his son...at least, I gave him that hint that he was the man I loved and I did all of these just for him.

Even if he raped me, even if he hurt me so badly...he would always be that man I loved.

A cruel game. And fate plays it unfairly with me. But it didn't matter. I didn't get Ivan's love in the end, I was humiliated and tortured beyond my belief, my baby wouldn't know who his father is...but it didn't matter.

At this point, though, nothing mattered at all.

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The next meeting that the committee had planned was in the end of May. And it would be the last meeting I would be present at before I apply for my three-year vacation. I would have called it a 'maternity leave', since, by that time I would be in my third trimester, and in a few months I would be delivering...but it's easier to just tell everyone that I needed my rest from work. I would, of course, still do the workload that my bosses gave at home. Attending meetings and parties of any sort that are organized by my colleagues were the only ones I wouldn't attend during this 'vacation'.

It was a good idea, actually. At least I could distance myself from everyone before they could suspect anything odd with me. At least...it spared me; and maybe Ivan as well; from doing the tough job of explaining to them exactly what happened.

Despite everything, I really didn't want them to look down on Ivan for what he did to me.

I knew far too well that Ivan had difficulties making friends, thanks to his previous bosses. His large body and somewhat childish attitude almost always got everyone wrong with his true intentions of wanting to be friends and not enemies.

No matter what people say, he's still a sweet man.

Despite everything he did...

One day before May arrived; I thought of organizing my work completely and took that day as an opportunity to finish off any pending work until the end of the year. It would make my work much easier and I didn't have to rush things off when at the same time I had to take care of the baby. I planned and forecasted everything, making sure it wouldn't burden me for the coming months, coming years.

That day, I dropped by the office to place my finished work, to submit my vacation letter to my boss and to take home more work. I even brought along the box that contained all the things I collected of Ivan...all the memories I had of him...together with the scarf I managed to finish.

I decided to give him that box and the scarf. I decided to throw away any connection I had with him.

It didn't matter, really. At least, it was enough to know that I had tried to love him and yearned for him to love me back...and the baby I was carrying would be the only bridge I had of him from now on.

But at that moment, I didn't feel like appreciating the pregnancy at all...

How can one do so, when the elevator wasn't working and my office was a good five floors up?

I cursed in my native language when the backache kicked me right at the spine again and my feet felt like they were shredded to pieces with every step I took. In every few steps of the stairs, I had to stop and catch my breath, sometimes I had to massage my waist to relieve the soreness. Carrying two boxes in my arms; one of Ivan's, the other was containing my work files; although they were quite light, carrying anything at all wasn't helping me the slightest in this case. Moreover now that I felt like my baby bump was the size of a football...not to mention how difficult it was to hide it now under my jacket.

I managed to get there though, regardless of being all sweaty and tired as I reached my door. I went in and started to organize my folders and type out memos and whatever that my office required for the next three years. Some might say that three years would be too long for a vacation, or 'maternity leave' even...but, being a man who had no prior experiences with children, let alone how to take care of one...I think three years wasn't such a bad amount of time to spend to learn how to care for my son.

The vacation letter was placed on the top of the files that needed my bosses' urgent attention. When the dispatch worker comes in to pick it up tomorrow up to the next few days, it would be delivered directly to them. As I did so, I felt a small surge of relief coming in and it felt good to finally done it.

Maybe it was the thought of doing this for my son...maybe it's the fact that I would finally get myself ready to become a parent and; as awkward as it sounds; a mother.

But there was one more thing I needed to do...and that was to send the second box to Ivan's office. The box that contained his photos, his gifts to me, his memories...

I closed the door to my office and locked it, before walking slowly down the corridor towards the stairs. Ivan's office was on the third floor, and as I get to the lobby, I would stop by and deliver the box. My eyes was locked on it and thoughts of eagerly wanting to do this and wanting to back away kept coming back and forth.

This would definitely be the last. I didn't think I needed to keep it now that I know Ivan wouldn't let Alfred go...No matter how strong my jealousy was towards that American, Ivan wouldn't leave him...since Alfred is-

I bumped into someone. It got me quite startled that I grunted and dropped the box I was holding at that moment. If it wasn't for the staircase's wooden railing, I would have dropped flat on the ground and that would risk my son's life greatly. All the contents of the box spilled out and scattered everywhere on the carpeted floor. I cursed under my breath...who was that person that I bumped into...

"Oh, hey! Luddy!"

Speaking of the devil.

"Sorry, man! I didn't see you...I was in a hurry!" He laughed loudly. I smiled a bit to even it with his annoying laughter, although I was feeling very irritated at him at that moment for nearly killing my baby. Alfred offered me a hand and I took it, carefully steadying myself on my feet again. "Ivan's waiting for me to pick him up...can't have my boyfriend waiting for me for too long now, can I? We're going out for a movie date! Maybe dinner or sex after that, whichever that fatso preferred..."

I didn't need to hear that, nor would I want to know. I quickly changed the topic, and asked; "W-what are you doing here, Alfred? Working?"

"Nah, not really...I was just sending some faxes to my bosses...and a few invitation cards to my birthday too. Oh, yes! Ludwig, don't forget to attend my birthday party! That fatso wanted to make it together with the baby shower, but it doesn't matter. I'm still calling it my birthday party! Bring some presents and shit, kay?"

I nodded slowly without looking at him. Alfred was so lucky...and I was futilely jealous of him. Despite me being the youngest in our circle of friends, Alfred seemed to be the one that was pampered the most by the older ones. Everyone followed what he said, what he wanted. His world was perfect...mine wasn't.

My eyes didn't look at him one bit when he started to laugh again, and I only concentrated on the spilled contents of the box scattered on the floor. I was thinking of how to pick them up since bending down with the condition I was in wasn't going to be a feasible feat. But Alfred noticed where I was looking at and he started to do the job of picking up the items for me.

"Anyway...sorry about this. Let me help you pick them up." He smiled and started to pick up everything before I could stop him; the gloves, cards and the photographs- "Eh? Why did you have Ivan's photos in here?"

I swallowed a bit. "Ah...that's...those were old photographs I found in my house. I thought I would give them to him..."

"Oh, I see...hey! This scarf...you made it? How the fuck did you make it, man? It's pretty!"

"Ah...t-that's..." I was lost of words. I didn't know whether to be happy with the compliment or worried that Alfred was going through the contents of the box. "It was...it was supposed to be for Ivan's birthday last year...as a present...but I didn't managed to finish it until now..."

"Oh...so you're the one who made those scarves! I think Ivan really likes them, you know. He kept them in his closet and displayed them like a fucking treasure! He didn't wear it, yeah...maybe it was too pretty for him or maybe he just didn't want them to get spoiled...I don't know..."

My feelings were not comprehendible when I heard what the American had said to me. I didn't know Ivan appreciated my gifts to him...even if they were nothing but handmade scarves. Or maybe Alfred was just saying that to make me feel better...? Whatever it was, I could somehow sense the feeling of accomplishment and hope the strongest in the pool of emotions I had. I was also at the verge of tears.

Ivan appreciated my gifts. I understood that it would be impossible to even imagine, but I had a feeling Ivan knew that I loved him...and he knew that I did all those just for him...

I watched silently as Alfred filled in the box again; jealousy and hatred for that man simply vapourised after what he said. He finally stood up with the box and the scarf in his hands, smiling widely at me. "You said you're going to give these to Ivan, right? I can give them to him directly! I think it's easier that way."

"B-but...but Alfred, I don't think it's necessary...I could just send it to Ivan's office..."

"Hey, don't burden yourself! You don't look so well, Luddy...it looks like you need some rest or food or something."

I blushed shyly. "I...I'm sorry if I'm causing you trouble..."

"No worries! We're buddies, yeah? Friends help friends...it's a normal thing."

I nodded again and he gave a playful punch on my shoulder. I smiled slightly. Alfred wasn't so bad after all. He wasn't the type of person to let anyone down and he would do anything to get on everyone's good mood. My jealousy of him being the one Ivan chose had blinded me from seeing this side of him, which was undoubtedly the side that made Ivan fell for him. It hurt to think that Ivan loved him, yes. It still did, though. But at that point, nothing close to hatred came in my mind.

"Hey, Luddy...I think I better go. See you sometime around! Don't forget about my birthday party!"

"Ah...of...of course..._Danke_, Alfred." I nodded and watched him turned towards the descending stairs with the box in his arms. The box that kept my memories of Ivan...I was finally giving them away...

But fate is so cruel. It plays its game unfairly, always.

It was fate that made me witness it. It was fate that Alfred missed to pick up one item from the floor. It was fate that made everything too late. Far too late.

And I was left to only helplessly watch.

The glass sculpture that Ivan gave to me as a token of our first friendship had a cylindrical shape of a vase, and the sunflowers carved on one end of the cylinder were so detailed that I had never thought Ivan made it himself. It was a beautiful piece and one of a kind too. I didn't exactly know why I wanted to give it away...since it marked my first time of ever falling in love with that Russian man.

I should have kept it, though. If I had kept it in the first place, safe and sound in the vicinity of my house instead of inside that box...none of this would have happen.

If I had kept it, Alfred wouldn't have missed it when he packed the objects inside the box again. If I had kept it, Alfred wouldn't have stepped on it and slipped.

He wouldn't have missed his footing and he wouldn't have fallen down the stairs.

Fate plays it so unfairly. And all I could do was watch its game.

The unkind time and space seemed to freeze the moment Alfred's body lurched forward. I heard the glass sculpture breaking under Alfred's foot with a high pitch tinkle and automatically his body was sent afloat by gravity. The box in his arms was thrown off as well, and all the items that Alfred had tiredly packed looked as if they just burst out from the blast.

And Alfred...he managed to turn his to face me. That look on his face was one that I could never easily forget. His blue eyes opened widely and they were looking at me; as if they were begging me for help. His eyes were almost filled with tears...as if he knew what that fall would do...

Alfred even extended a hand towards me. He really wanted my help.

But I didn't take his hand. In fact, I didn't do anything at all but watch.

Hate me if you like, but my human instincts didn't register that quickly. If anything, the desire to save my baby from getting itself in a similar accident was stronger. If I had taken Alfred's hand, there's a high chance he would pull me down the stairs as well and I would hurt...no, I would have killed my own son.

Even then, I knew it was too late. Even if I wanted to reach out for him, I would never make it. He was too far and I couldn't move too fast with a large baby bump in front of me.

I watched. I watched as Alfred's body hit the steps with a very loud thud. Once, then twice, and then another third time. As he reached the end of the stairs, he hit his head hard against the wall that, when he unconsciously sprawled on the wooden board of the stairs; on top of all the photographs and cards that spilled out from the box; I couldn't overlook the red blood tainting his blonde hair and drops of it rolling down the side of his head.

Why was this happening...?

Yes, I may have held a grudge on him for being the man Ivan loved. I may have hated him. But I didn't ask for this to happen. I didn't ask fate to make him missed the sculpture. I didn't ask fate to make him step on it and make him lose his balance at the top of the stairs.

It wasn't my fault. Fate was playing the game, not me.

But how can I not feel guilty? Alfred was just trying to help me and he didn't do anything wrong. Even if he almost did make me fall when he bumped into me, he almost got my son into a similar fate like this...Alfred didn't deserve the accident. He didn't deserve such cruelty...

I tried to breathe normally. I was nearly in a panic attack witnessing something so unexpected. I froze on the spot, watching Alfred from the top. I wanted to wait until he wakes up again, but it was useless. Alfred had already passed out, unconscious...or worse...

I carefully went down the stairs, taking easy steps while my hand trailed the railing. I cautiously avoided stepping on the spilled item that rested on the steps, and the bits of glasses that broke off from that sculpture that caused this untimely accident. I didn't want to risk falling as well, so I took it slow and steady until I reached Alfred, although the panic feeling inside me wasn't going to stop nor would it cease down.

I sat down beside him and the first thing I checked was his pulse and breathing. I took his hand and placed a thumb on his wrist. There were pulses, but they were quite weak. His chest was heaving up and down slowly, as if he was sound asleep. Even if I felt slightly relieved that he was still alive, I was undoubtedly scared that he had injuries more than just a bloody head.

I didn't dare to move him. I was scared he had broken his neck or any limb in particular. I placed a hand on his abdomen and tried to shake him awake. "A-Alfred...? Alfred, can you hear me?"

No reply from him, and I was getting more and more worried.

Why was this happening? I didn't want something so bad to befall anyone; even if I hated that person to some degree...Alfred didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve it at all.

He was just helping me. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't my fault.

I looked around, just in case if there were other people who were with us when the accident happened. No one came to view, and I was started to feel the panic again.

My panic only amplified more when I saw the familiar red liquid on Alfred's body. And that blood was soaking the fabric of his pants, right between his legs. It took me a while to remember that he was pregnant. He was pregnant with Ivan's baby...and I vaguely remember if the edges of the stairs had hit him right below the navel.

Alfred might risk a miscarriage. He might risk losing his child. Ivan's child...

I stared at the blood in horror. In my past lifetime, I had seen worse than just blood oozing out from wounds. I had seen broken and mutilated limbs, intestines spilling out of one's gut, brain scattering across the ground...But nothing prepared me to the thought that an innocent unborn child was killed by a mere accident. By an unseen glass sculpture that conveniently dropped near the stairs. By fate.

It wasn't my fault. I didn't ask for it, I didn't even wish it to happen to him...

"Help! Help, somebody, please!" I started to scream to the empty hallways. If I wasn't six months pregnant, I would have carried him down...probably I would have carried him all the way to my car and drove him off to the nearest doctor.

"Help! Help! Help, please...please..."

I was crying when I kept shouting the word 'Help' repeatedly to those who could hear me. I was so shocked by what happened that I couldn't control my fear any longer. I was in such a frantic state to a point that I even tried to stop Alfred's bleeding with my bare hands. Trying to push the blood back into his body. Trying to convince myself that this wasn't happening.

Why? Oh, God, why? I didn't hate Alfred that much to want such a thing to happen to him. I didn't ask for it.

It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

As pitiless as it sounds, it was fate. Fate made him missed the object, fate made him fall. Fate plays it unfairly. I hate it so much for doing this to him...to us.

I could have changed it. I could have helped. But in the interval between the time Alfred stepped on that sculpture and the time he was already sprawling on the ground...it was too fast. Too fast.

It was too late. I couldn't do anything but watch.

Alfred was only trying to help me. It wasn't my fault.

And there was really nothing I could do about it.

.

.

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**A/N:**_ I'm surprising myself for such a quick update for this story, and I blame you guys for the wonderful reviews! It gave me countless of ideas to go on with the story and hope that I could finish this soon so I could concentrate on my other stories._

_Like I mentioned, Alfred would have a dose of angst as well in this story. So here it is...and it's just the beginning of it._

_I really should make more father-son moment with Ludwig and his baby. It could at least balance the mood in this story..._


	6. Please don't hate me

0-0-0-0-0-0

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.

It was the end of May. The last day I would attend a meeting before my vacation leave.

I arrived at the office building in the morning as early as eight; the meeting wouldn't start for another one hour. I parked my car into a parking square and switched off everything except the engine and the air ventilator. I stayed in my car, leaning against the driver's seat comfortably. It's nearing the end of spring, and summer seemed to come very early than usual. The days had started to heat up quickly and during the peak hours, the heat was unbearable.

Even so, I was still dressed in a sweater and a jacket on top of it; my typical clothes that I wore as an attempt to hide my son from the world. It was a crazy move and I had to stay in the coolness of my car before I could fight the heat of the morning and walk to the building. But I didn't mind. I still couldn't risk anyone knowing about my baby, no matter how much I wanted people to know.

Guilt doesn't know time, same as how fate doesn't know mercy. As I sat there, staring at the steering wheel in front of me, at my hands holding it gently at the sides...my brain kept on recalling that bitter memory I didn't want to remember.

That moment when I watched Alfred rolled down the stairs. That moment when he bled in between his legs...

It was cruel and unfair. Both for Alfred...and for me.

I didn't quite remember what happened right after Francis came to my side, shaking my shoulder so I could calm down and snapped out from continuously shouting for help. Apparently Francis was in the building as well, and he heard my yells. Before I even realized of his presence, he was already attending to Alfred.

In the midst of the shock and fear, I manage to hear Francis said, in some sort of distance haze; 'didn't break his neck' and 'cell phone'. I didn't grasp that the latter was for me, until he, again, shook my shoulder to get me to wake up from my stunned stupor. I slowly fished out my cell phone and handed the gadget to the older Frenchman, of which he snatched straight on. He made a call to the emergency unit and sighed in relief once the call had been made.

He looked so much calmer than I did, even if his blue eyes were reflecting concern. Nonetheless, who knew? No one can tell the other's emotions in this kind of dire situation.

But it wasn't my fault. It wasn't Alfred's fault either. It was so unfair...

"Stop crying, Ludwig. Stop crying." I heard Francis's voice boomed softly in front of me. He was wiping the tears that rolled down freely on my cheeks with his thumbs. Seeing that I was still dazed, he took the effort to hug me slightly. "Tell me what happened."

"I...Alfred...Alfred was just trying to help...it-it wasn't my fault...he tripped and he...p-please don't hate me...I didn't...it wasn't my fault..."

My tongue tied itself into a knot. The more words I tried to think of saying, the more confused I became. Francis just held me to his side and hushed me, telling me that everything would be okay. But I know it wouldn't be. At times like this I wished Gilbert was here to comfort me.

The paramedics arrived less than five minutes after Francis's call, and as they took Alfred away to the hospital in a stretcher, Francis offered me a lift to the hospital. I declined his offer and chose to go there with my own car. It was normal that he was worried; given the state I was in minutes ago...but after watching Alfred being carried off, the fear that his injuries were beyond repair ceased somewhat.

If anything, I prayed that his baby survived the fall.

Francis left me at the stairs, and asked me to be careful on my way to the hospital. The similar worry was visible in his eyes as he said those words. I nodded as a reply and waited for him to move. As he did, I quickly gathered all the objects that had scattered all over the floor.

Ivan's cards, Ivan's photographs, the scarf that I made...everything accumulated into my arms. It's a wonder that Francis didn't see them. Or maybe, he chose to ignore the items...the one that caused the accident...

It wasn't my fault. Alfred would know, Ivan would understand.

Within a few minutes of walking from the stairs down towards my car that I parked on my designated spot, my mind continued to convince myself that everything would be alright, that Alfred wasn't hurt that badly, and that nothing bad would ever result in this accident.

Even if there was blood in between Alfred's legs...I was convinced that his baby was okay.

I took a slow and steady drive to the hospital, despite my heart racing like a locomotive escaping an avalanche. It took me a while to find a parking spot and park my car, took me a few more minutes to find Francis, sitting at the bench not far from doors that had letterings spelling out 'OPERATION ROOM' on its hazy glass windows. I didn't quite register the backache I had from walking everywhere since I was more anxious about the American now.

Even though I tried not to believe that Alfred was undergoing a surgery, the worried look on Francis's face as he sent text messages to someone; probably to our other colleagues, maybe even Ivan; and the subtle silence that kept in between us were convincing me that Alfred's condition was worse than I anticipated.

Time was uncountable as Francis and I waited on the bench (which didn't provide me with relief on my back one bit), wondering when the surgery that was put on Alfred was going to end. After an hour, Arthur and Alfred's brother Matthew came by, and I shifted my seating to another bench to make way for them. I was thankful that they didn't ask me about why my body looked different or what I was doing there.

I was neglected again, sitting a few seats away from them. They started asking Francis questions that I was sure the man couldn't answer correctly. I overheard Francis telling them that I was the one who saw Alfred first and they started to give me an odd, somewhat accusing look; of which, I gladly ignored.

It wasn't my fault. I knew it wasn't. Alfred was only trying to help me, but he got unlucky and tripped. I could have helped, but I couldn't because...because I was pregnant...with Ivan's baby...

The disgusting guilt was inevitable, but what else could I do? What else could I say?

I could have asked them not to hate me because of my pregnancy obstructing me from helping. I could have asked them not to blame Alfred because he was only trying to help me...

But, I couldn't explain to them of the former; that I was carrying a baby and that I wouldn't risk my son's life for Alfred's sake. I couldn't tell them without shaming Ivan for the rape and abuse he did to me, what happened that painful October night, what happened when Ivan called out the wrong name-

"Alfred!"

Everyone turned to gaze at the newcomer. It was Ivan. He looked well-dressed than he was usually. I guess he was really waiting for Alfred for their date...

The look on his face reminded me of a worried mother and an angry father; the kind you would see on television shows when their children had done something wrong. Ivan's face came back and forth with those emotions mixing in one pool of dread. He seemed to not notice me as he marched straight towards the door. Francis and Arthur stood up and quickly held him a few steps back from making his way through the doors.

"Calm down, Ivan. Calm down. It's okay. They're treating Alfred now; he's going to be okay." Arthur assured the Russian. Ivan's shoulders slumped slightly when his determination to barge into the operating room proved to be futile. I would have done the job of calming him down had I not still feel uncomfortable with his skin touching mine.

"Alfred's in there? W-was it bad?" He asked. His voice quivered...and, oh, God. He was crying. I never for once wanted to see him cry...and now, he's crying because of his lover, his Alfred.

The jealousy on that American rose up inside my chest again. It wasn't fair. I was in pain and I didn't get Ivan's mercy. I was operated on for the injuries I held and no one was there to cry for me.

But what else could I do? What else could I do when I'm not the one being loved?

The light box with the words 'OCCUPIED' went off after an hour of Ivan's arrival. As the surgeon, dressed in his respective surgeon dress, came out through the doors, everyone except me stood up from their seats. Everyone was curious and anxious to know if the treatment had been successful, if there were other complications that would come up later, if Alfred's baby was alright...

I was worried more about the baby that the American carried, more than I was on Alfred himself. I didn't know why...maybe it was because I had that protective sense over an unborn child; being a mother-to-be myself. I was praying in my heart that the baby was alright. It wasn't anyone's fault. The baby shouldn't be the victim of my jealousy...and fate's cruel game.

The doctor approached the group, his face not readable at all. I guess doctors might have had trained themselves to have that sort of expression, and although it was irritating trying to figure out the news with it, sometimes I felt it was best not to know how to read it. "Which one of you is of his family? Or his partner...?"

"I'm...I'm his boyfriend, doctor." Ivan moved forward and the others circled him at the sides. Except me...it was selfish, I know. But it was best I kept a distance from them...especially with the accident indirectly involving me as well.

It was unfair, but it wasn't my fault. It was never anyone's fault...

"H-how's Alfred? Is he-"

"Don't worry. The surgery was successful. Mr. Jones is stable now..." I heard the doctor said; though the pity in his voice wasn't veiled one bit. I heard Matthew sighed in relief and Francis looked like he was about to smile. I was feeling grateful as well...at least I won't feel too guilty of the events that had occurred to lead Alfred into the surgery room.

But I was wrong. We were wrong in the end.

Fate is cruel, fate is unfair. Fate knows no mercy.

"Unfortunately..." the doctor continued, and how I wished he didn't. "Unfortunately, I couldn't save the child. In fact, I had to remove his womb completely. The accident had damaged the organ...whatever that had hit him, had ruptured it badly. My best option was to remove it; if I leave it in, it could grow cancerous, maybe even get infected...and this would cause more problems to the patient."

I stared at the dried blood on the sleeve of my jacket with eyes wide open in shock. No. I didn't want this. I didn't want Alfred's child to die...

"From now on, Mr. Jones wouldn't be able to bear any children. But on the bright side, he'll be alright." He placed a hand on one of Ivan's shoulders and held on it firmly. I took a glance at Ivan and I saw the colour draining from his face, his fringes hiding the storm wielding in his purple eyes as he nodded to the doctor.

"I'm sorry. Please, be strong. Mr. Jones might need the strength from all of you as well." With those words, the doctor went past us and to the nurse station, probably asking them to write a report of the surgery proceedings, or maybe even asking them to clean up the operation room. He left us in a gloomy atmosphere and I was starting to feel uncomfortable being in it.

My hand found its way to my hidden baby bump and I rubbed it in worry. I was thankful that _my _baby was safe, but in this situation, the guilt of letting the other one die was unbearable. Everyone needed the strength. Ivan needs it for Alfred, Alfred needs it for Ivan...and me...I need it for my child.

"...what happened...?" Ivan. He broke the anguish silence with a near-whispering voice; sounding almost threatening as it echoes the empty hallway. He turned to look at me, at Francis, at Arthur...but we all only looked back at him with a similar sadness. Ivan didn't like it, it seemed, so he took Arthur; who was the closest to him at the moment; by the collar. "What happened? Who did this to Alfred; tell me!"

"I-I have no clue! I just came here, with me Mattie. Francis...Francis knows a lot more than I do!" Arthur quivered. Being a short man wasn't helping as he was pulled up to a point that he had to stand on the end of his toes. Ivan glanced at Francis, the fury visible in his eyes.

"I wasn't t-there when it happened, Ivan. All I know was Alfred fell down the stairs. When I found him, he was already on the floor; bleeding and...and Ludwig was kneeling beside him. I didn't know what really happened, but Ludwig was there and-"

Ivan didn't listen. I knew he didn't when I saw his angry violet eyes staring directly at me. I knew that reaction too well. It was that face I saw when I was raped...it was that face I saw when my arm was dislocated, when my face was punched so many times. He released his grasp on Arthur and stomped his way towards where I was seating. I looked away, scared beyond belief. Everything came back to me. That night when he approached me so forcefully...when he locked my wrists in a bruising grip...when he tore up my-

I cringed. Suddenly the urge to close my eyes from the world and protect my son with my arms was so strong. But I know...such resistance was futile when it comes to Ivan. I heard Francis trying to stop Ivan from advancing but he was too late. I found the collar of my jacket tugged on hard and I was hauled up on my feet with such force that a sting came penetrating right on my spine in a second.

"You...What did you do? When Alfred fell, what the fuck did you do?" He spat at my face. I looked away. I couldn't look at him in the eyes...I couldn't bear it...

"Why didn't you help him? Or...or were you the one who pushed him? Huh? You pushed him down that stairs, didn't you? Tell me, you piece of-"

"I didn't!" I answered back desperately. I was shaking in his arms; trying to fight back the tears and fears. It's coming back to me again. The horror, the sorrow...

"It wasn't my fault! I...I didn't do it, Ivan, please...I...Alfred was just...t-trying to help me...he lost his balance and...I couldn't catch him in time and-"

"You should have! You were there! You fucking know he was pregnant...! Why the hell did you watch him fall? Were you...were you jealous of him, were you holding a grudge against him or something...that you couldn't hold out a single fucking hand to help him? What, did you, like, want me so badly that you had to do that to Alfred?"

Those words that Ivan spurted out...

As much as I wanted to deny them, they actually rang true. Oh, God. I admit...I was jealous of Alfred. I was jealous that he had Ivan's love.

But I didn't want this to happen. Fate is cruel for the both of us, and I hate it so much.

"Ivan...! Please, calm down. This is not going to resolve anything!" I saw Francis by our side, reluctantly touching Ivan's hand that was still gripping on my jacket. But Ivan was still looking at me...as if he was expecting a confession from my mouth.

"Do not be hasty, Ivan. We are in a hospital; other patients are going to be upset if you keep it on like this..." Arthur tried to help too, though it proved to be useless as well.

We both stared at each other for quite some time. I was shaking in fear; fear for my safety and the baby's...while Ivan was shaking in rage. He looked as if he would land his fist on my face...or worse, on my bulging stomach. If I wasn't pregnant, I would have dodged it perfectly. If I wasn't pregnant, I could have helped Alfred from falling and stop his baby from meeting its demise...

"...I'm...I'm sorry..."

No, this wasn't right. It wasn't my fault. It was never my fault from the beginning...why should I apologize?

"...I'm really sorry, Ivan...I...I didn't know what to do..."

I was raped and abused without anyone helping. I was conceiving a child that didn't know who his father is. I was forced to give up loving someone because he loved someone else.

But in the end...I was the one who had to apologize for all the misery that found its way to my door...? Why? Oh, God, why?

"...I'm really sorry...p-please don't hate me...please don't hate me, Ivan..._bitte...bitte_..." I begged the man in front of me, frightened by the things he would do had his fury taken over his mind. This wasn't like me at all...I never trembled in fear like this before; moreover to beg someone to spare my life, and my son's.

Ivan's right hand released its grip and it went up in a stance that I knew too well. He was about to punch me. But...unlike the night he took away my dignity, I didn't have the heart to fight back. As much as I wanted to protect my child, I just couldn't. Maybe I felt...this was alright. This was the price I had to pay for being unloved. For loving someone who loves someone else...

"Ivan! Don't. Please..." Francis tried again. And I was somewhat thankful that Ivan finally listened. But not before giving me a hateful glare. Oh, God. His eyes were doing nothing but accusing me for what happened. Hating me for not helping his lover.

But it was never anyone's fault. Then why-

"I hate you, Ludwig..."

Why must I take the entire burden on my shoulders? Why must I be abandoned from being loved? Why must I be hated?

"I hate you for doing this to me, to Alfred. After all these years, I thought we were good friends. Now you're nothing but a troublesome pest! Don't ever expect me to forgive you for this, Ludwig. Not in my whole fucking life."

Those words...and this time, they just sliced open a massive wound in my heart. And I was left quivering in the heartache, on the brink of losing my sanity to those words...

All this time I didn't really mind if Ivan didn't know that I love him, I didn't really mind if he loved someone else and that he chose that person to be with for the rest of his life. I didn't really mind...as long as I know that he was happy. And that...he still accepts me as his friend.

But with those words...my world was starting to cave in and I was buried alive without any air to breath through my lungs. I strived my days to make him like me, love me if the time was right...but now...

Oh, God. It hurt. It hurt so much.

He was crying again. The anger he had let out vanished slowly and he was crying again. I was left standing at where I stood, looking at him with teary eyes. Even after what he said, I still wanted to move towards him...still wanted to hold him and hug him and tell him that everything's going to be alright. I wanted to whisper so many things to him. I wanted to explain, to make him like me once more.

Please. _Please don't hate me._

It wasn't my fault. I didn't want this to happen to anyone...

Francis stopped me though. He shook his head and gave me a frown that urged me to go. Go and leave them alone. Go because I wasn't needed there anymore. No one wanted my presence there any longer.

I swallowed the hurtful feeling and turned to walk slowly out from the ward, out from the building and into my car. The moment I stepped out to the unkind world, that was when the dam in my eyes broke and tears freely flowed down my cheeks. I couldn't control it this time. Even the soft kicks from my son didn't stop me from crying in the pain.

I went into my car and started the engine, but I was rational enough not to drive just yet. Instead, I turned on the radio a few bars louder than usual. And I started to scream. I screamed because I was alone. I screamed because I had to live with a broken heart for eternity. I screamed because Ivan didn't see how much I loved him...

...and because...Ivan hated me now.

Staring at the steering wheel in front of me sure passed the time. I didn't know how long I stared at it without anything in my mind but the bitter recollection of the events that I didn't want to go through again. I killed the engine and went out of the car slowly; taking my briefcase along.

It was hard not to waddle as I walk to the meeting room, thus, my steps were slow and careful. There were only a few minutes until the meeting started, and it was good enough because by this time, everyone would empty the hallways and none would notice the way I was walking.

But as I entered the meeting room...it was a different story.

Like many times before, murmurs of conversations and jokes and laughter changed into silence when I open the door. But this time, the faces I saw...maybe it was just my imagination, but...they were all painted with hate. As if they just saw an abomination that they would gladly get rid of. Even Feliciano, my best friend, and Francis were expressed with some sort of doubtful anger.

I understood why. They knew what happened...and I was the demon that caused the incident.

I didn't greet them and went to sit on the empty chair at the very corner I was comfortable in. I couldn't help but observe my surroundings as I made my way to the other end of the table. Everyone's eyes were throwing daggers at me. But I noticed; the one that threw swords was Alfred. He was looking at me as if he was about to eat me alive. As if he had forgotten that it all happened because he was trying to help me...and it wasn't me who made him fall down that stairs...

The only thing that held him back from screaming at me, maybe even stab me with sharp object to compensate for what happened, was Ivan. Ivan was always there to comfort his Alfred and stop him from being a lunatic.

It was very unfair.

The hateful looks I was getting didn't stop me from acting calm. Yes, it was unnerving with so many people staring at you like you were some kind of animal that needs to be caged, that needs to be killed. I couldn't read minds, but I know what they were thinking of me.

A troublesome pest. A redundant enemy. A vicious murderer.

Even when I sat down, the atmosphere didn't change. The two persons of who I didn't bother to recognize, who were supposed to sit by my sides, quickly packed their things and moved away. The closest ones to me even moved their chairs away from me.

But I didn't really mind. I had been in worst situations...this shouldn't bother me as much. As difficult as it was, I pretended that nothing was wrong, that there wasn't anything bad in between me and world. As hurtful as it was to breathe, I kept on putting up the stoic face I was famous with, denying the hate that filled in the room.

After all, I was there to attend a meeting...not to drown in the vile whispers that blamed my every move. They weren't there when it happened; how would they know anyway?

How would they know what Alfred did for me? How would they know what I had to go through now? How would they know what Ivan had done to me...in that dreadful night?

My misery didn't stop there, unfortunately. Just as I was about to settle down at my seat and relax my back, something hit me on my forehead. For a split second, I thought it was a rock or a knife, if it was possible...but the cold ooze that dripped down with a sticky texture suggested to me that it was an egg. A rotten one at that.

It was embarrassing and uncalled for. I was very shocked. I felt so upset. But I couldn't cry. Not to them...

I looked up and tried to find the culprit amongst the attendees. But I couldn't tell who did it. How could I; when every single person in the room was laughing at me. Their laughter roared loudly in the once quiet room, and, while some would say that I should be grateful that the once dark atmosphere was turning cheerful, I would say they are wrong. The laughter didn't drown the hate one bit. In fact, it only escalated the hate even more.

The urge to visit the bathroom and clean up the rotten contents of the egg was there, but I didn't know if they decided to do more humiliating things on me if I made my way out. I swallowed the thorns and decided to just use my handkerchief for the moment. The visit to the bathroom had to wait until lunchtime.

As I wiped the smelly goo off my face and hair, and some that managed to drip on the front of my jacket, I held on that serious face. Even though my heart was aching, even though I felt like crying my eyes out...I couldn't afford looking like a wimp when inside, I was painfully withering in the fate I was in and there was no one there to help me.

The mocking chuckles died down and the whispers that despised my very being began once more. Luckily, the murmurs didn't go on for long when Arthur proceeded to continue the meeting. What Arthur did was a given, despite my presence was ignored throughout the whole meeting. I wasn't even allowed a few minutes to present my paperwork.

It was alright. I could have yelled at them to not hate me so, but it was alright...

As they converse with each other, leaving me to wander in the bliss of the negligence on my own, I placed my palms on the baby bump. Seven months weren't so long...and in another two months or so, I would be able to see and hold the baby that was hiding in my body. I could finally look at his cute face, comparing him to Ivan's and mine. The baby would listen to my despair and feel my tears. The baby that never failed to make me happy...

I felt the kick again and I had to break that mask to smile a bit, even if the smile wasn't imitating happiness. For the moment, the world only consisted of me and my child. Nothing came in between us.

Despite everything...at least, I know...in the end, I still had my son. I may be alone in the world, but my son was my savior. And I promise nothing but to be with him until the end.

It wasn't my fault I was accused to be a murderer. It wasn't my fault that everyone hated me.

No matter if no one liked me, no matter if no one trusted me.

All that I needed was my son and the memories that I would create with him. Then...everything would be alright again.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

It didn't cross my mind of how convenient the position of the bench was when I first found it. The young linden tree gave sufficient shade to protect me from the summer sun, not to mention the soothing breeze that accompanied the warm toasty smell of grass and linden buds. The flower patch was still there, and in a few months time they would wither away to make way to the falling heart-shaped leaves of the tree.

Strange that the tree itself was known as 'the lover's tree' in my home country...and yet, there I was, sitting on the bench on my own; with nothing to accompany me other than the leaves rustling and my son, moving gently inside me. As usual, I brought my lunch together with me and slowly I ate the potato salad and sandwich as the flowers escorted the serene silence around me. It was a bit embarrassing to say that I had been eating double, sometimes triple, of the usual amounts of food I took months ago.

It was very hard not to think that I was getting bloated; though miraculously, only my muscles were substituted with soft tissues of fat, and as far as I was concern I didn't look any different except with a round, pot-belly-like stomach. But subconsciously, I knew I had to eat more. Maybe it was solely for my son, maybe it was for me as well...when the time comes, I probably would need more energy to-

Ah! It was a bit too early to be thinking about giving birth to my baby. Although I wasn't sure how I would deliver the little one, to be honest, I was scared just thinking about it. It didn't take a genius to know that childbirth is going to hurt more than anything in the world.

And that was the time I wished Ivan would be there.

I wanted to hold his hand tightly. I wanted him to whisper encouraging words into my ear. I wanted him to be there to smile and told me I did a good job...as I held our son in my arms.

Yes, that would have been the perfect picture that I would keep in my memory forever. But Ivan wasn't with me and he didn't know. He wouldn't be there when I needed him the most.

And now he hated me.

I lost all my chances. I played all my cards. There's nothing more I could do.

Like many times before, I was blanketed with grief for my fate of unable to be loved by that Russian man. But the saddest part of all was that; my son wouldn't even know who his father is...how he looked like when he smiles, how his voice sounded like when he calls my son's name...

From the start of the nightmare to this day, it was the only regretful thing that I had done to my child, and I would forever remember it.

"I hope you understand..." I started yet another empty talk with the baby. "There's nothing else I could do...if I could, I really wanted your father to be the first to see you..." I gave a soft push on my stomach, feeling the hardened bump denting slightly under my fingers.

"But you have to understand as well...that it's not your father's fault. It was me, _ja?_ I was too late to tell him...that I loved him...and of course, that I'm having a beautiful baby boy for him. When you grow up and have the chance to meet Ivan...please don't hate him. It wasn't his fault...it wasn't anyone's fault but..."

Ah. There I was; blaming myself to tears again. Ever since Alfred's accident, I always ensured my baby that the world wasn't as cruel as what I had to go through every day...that the skies are not always so cloudy and the rain don't always fall. I had to lie to the little one because I didn't want him to hate the world for what it did to us, I didn't want him to hate anyone like how they hated me now. I hastily wiped my tear-filled eyes with the sleeve of my jacket and continued to eat my lunch. I made small, gentle circles on my bulging tummy, trying to be ignorant of the things that I had just said.

Then, a familiar face came passing by my view. Though we only met once before, I would definitely recognize that face anywhere.

It was no other than the white dog I encountered a month ago.

"Hey, there...look at you! You've grown up bigger than the last time we met..." I exclaimed, as I extended my arm out to reach it. I couldn't bend any further like I could before this, but somehow, the German shepherd knew and it voluntarily came to my side; giving out two deep barks before starting to show signs that it was pleased with my presence. I chuckled and ruffled the fur on its head; somewhat amazed that the dog was really well taken care of.

Still, it didn't wear a collar that would have indicated that it had an owner...or anything that would have given me a hint of who its caretaker was. I continued to scratch the dog under its chin and chuckled as he allowed my fingers to touch it there. "You're a strange dog. I like you a lot. I wished I could take you home and make you my pet...when I go to the hospital and give birth to my son, at least I know there's someone waiting for me at home..."

The dog was a strange one indeed. It was too nice, too adorable. What a coincidence that it was almost as old as the baby I was carrying...even more coincidental that it had white fur; which strongly reminded me of my albino brother. Yes, Gilbert was an albino, and at times when he was being his funny, sarcastic self, he would always brag about how white his skin and hair were. Though, in other times, he would lament being born that way and would only wish he was just a normal person in the world.

Aside all these, for me, the dog looked no different than a guardian angel. Probably my guardian angel...or my son's...

"Maybe I should give you a name..." I smiled softly at the dog, which nuzzled its snout on my thigh and the baby bump as I continued to ruffle its fur.

"How about...Hope?" I chuckled. That name sounded too tacky; as if I just took it out from a British comedian's name...the sudden image of Arthur on a comedian stage in my mind didn't help me one bit in suppressing that laughter.

"I don't know why I chose that name but...really; I don't know...maybe 'hope' is what I wanted all along."

My surroundings became silent for a few seconds after I said those words, and the dog barked to get my attention back to it. I blinked for a moment and continued to smile at the dog. "You won't hate me; will you...like how Ivan did? You won't leave me for good and always stay by my side, hmm...?

The dog gave out another bark, as if it agreed to what I was saying. I only chuckled...of course, the animal wasn't there when it happened; how would it know anything about my problems? It took me a while, though, to notice that the barks had nothing to do with the things I told it...but more like to get my attention to feed its mouth with the half-eaten sandwich in my right hand.

I smiled and waved the food in front of the dog...or Hope, as I would call him now and then. "Of course. My son had to share his food with you if you were going to meet and be friends one day."

I was about to drop the food onto the ground so Hope would eat it, but its head perked up before I could do so and it turned around to face something behind it. "What's the matter? You don't like roasted chicken? Or was it the tomatoes? I can pluck them out if-"

Hope barked again, but this time I recognize the barks sounded threatening rather than the attention-seeking barks he had given me a while ago. "Hope, what's the matter...?" I asked, still smiling. But my smile died down instantly when I looked up to see what bothered the dog so much...and the first thing I saw was Alfred. He was standing not far from us; arms tucked by his sides and stillness circled in the short gap between us.

Alfred's eyes were boring into me with the same spiteful glare he gave earlier that day in the meeting room, and I swallowed in the uneasiness of seeing him there. The tension in the air was visible even more when the breeze suddenly decided not to blow and the leaves kept quiet. The birds had stopped singing as well. Even Hope; which was barking angrily at Alfred earlier, suddenly whined and backed away. Within half a minute, it ran off from the garden and was gone out of sight.

I looked up at the American, trying to carve a smile without looking oddly nervous with his presence. "H-had your lunch, Alfred? If you brought it along, you're welcome to sit here and...and eat. I can accompany you." I patted the empty space on the bench to emphasize on what I had just said; the space fit enough for another person to use.

But Alfred didn't say a word and continued to give me that unnerving glare with his sharp blue irises. I glanced away from him and packed back the sandwich into my lunchbox; suddenly the urge to get away from that place was so intense. The more we kept silent, the more anxious I became.

"I heard you're doing fine now...that's good. I was really worried about you..." I sparked a conversation with him even though my eyes were looking at the flowers instead of him. Yet, he didn't respond.

I swallowed my saliva and tried again. "S-so...don't you have any err...plans to marry Ivan? I mean, you both are so close I think it's-"

"You're pregnant."

"_W-was?_" My head darted up and I looked at him, alarmed. How did he- was it a lucky guess? Or was he aware of it...?

"You're pregnant, Ludwig. Who's the father of that baby you're carrying?"

"I...I don't understand what you're talking about, Alfred." I chuckled at him despite knowing that my laughter sounded desperate and tense. How in the world did he know about my baby? No one would have guessed, no one would have suspected anything! My well-kept secret was accidentally revealed and I was beginning to feel the panic. "M-me? Pregnant...? Alfred...I-I...I don't even have a boyfriend...how do you expect me to-"

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_ Alfred shouted at me, and shutting up my mouth was what I did. Oh, God. I was so scared. I was really, really scared of him at that moment...

"You think I'm blind like the others? Huh? You think I don't notice the changes? You think I can't see that you're fucking fat enough to carry a baby?" He pointed his finger at my hidden bump and continued to rant. "And no stupid would wear sweaters and jackets in a fucking hot day like this, unless he's trying to hide something! Like, geez, I don't know...a pregnant belly?"

I was scared, yes. I was scared that my cover was blown; scared that Alfred was raging at me for being pregnant...and oh, God. Would he tell the others, would he spread rumours about me? I unconsciously gripped at the hem of my jacket and tugged it down helplessly. On my face the obvious shock was visible. "N-no. I...I'm just...I'm not feeling well today...A-Alfred...m-maybe it's a fever...and I-"

"_**BULLSHIT!**_ Now I want to know who that bastard's father is. Who is it, Ludwig? Tell me!" Alfred started to come closer towards the bench, his hands clenched by his sides in angry fists.

"Alfred...Alfred...don't, _bitte_..." I begged him...tears filling in my eyes again as I begged him not to harm me in any way. But I was too late. He took hold of my jacket and no matter how tight I tried to cover myself up with it, in Alfred's fury, the jacket simply tore at its zipped line. Even with the sweater still covering my son from the world, the roundness of my stomach was visible enough against the fabric. His angry eyes stared at it for a moment and came back up to meet my teary eyes again.

Oh, dear God. Help me. I didn't want to say it...I didn't want to confess that-

"It was Ivan, right? Ivan made you fucking pregnant, didn't he? He's the father of that bastard you're carrying!"

No, no, no. It wasn't him. I didn't want to say it was him. I didn't want to humiliate him for what he had done to me that October night. He never wanted me...he hated me...

"That's why you let me fall! That's why you made me lose my baby! You were jealous of us...of me!"

Yes, yes, I was. But I didn't make Alfred fall. I didn't want anything bad happening to his and Ivan's baby. It wasn't anyone's fault. Fate was the one that played the game unfairly...

"And now that I can't get pregnant with Ivan's baby, you wanted to take my place, huh? Is that it? You fucking think Ivan wanted you? You think he loved you? You think he wanted to fuck your pussy again? You think...by giving all those ugly scarves, you can win his fucking heart?"

No. Please. I couldn't carry the entire burden on my shoulders. I couldn't take it all...

"_**WHORE!" **_

Help me.

"_ALFRED!_ What are you doing...?"

Big hands pried the American from me, saving my life from a fist that had already been pulled back; ready to punch my abdomen had it not being stopped by those hands. I didn't dare to look anywhere else, but my own hands that was covering my tear-stained face. After I was sure that Alfred wouldn't attack me again, I looked up.

It was Ivan. I guessed that the little commotion Alfred and I did for the last few minutes alerted the Russian, and he came to interfere. Only...I wished he was comforting me instead of Alfred. I wished he was the one that took me away from the raging American, instead of taking Alfred away from an alleged murderer.

Alfred was crying, but I couldn't blame him. No matter what just happened, I couldn't. Not one bit of thought that Alfred was doing so just to get Ivan's attention away from me came to mind. Either that or I was simply ignoring the lovebirds because it hurt to look at them. It hurt so much...

It hurt to know that there was no one to do the same to me. No one.

No one would hug me and sooth me down with soft encouraging words. No one would be there to hold my hand, to tell me that it's alright...I was alone in this.

And it was so unfair.

I wiped my tears, carefully pulling back the damaged jacket as much as I could to wrap my bulging stomach. I overheard Ivan asking Alfred if he had taken his medicine, if I was taunting him or if I had said things that upset him. Ivan was indirectly accusing me for causing Alfred's misery again...and before I obtained more hateful indictments and unforgiving insults by Alfred; or worse, by Ivan; I decided to get away and leave them alone.

For a few seconds, as I managed to stand up with my lunchbox in hand and soreness at my waist, my blue eyes connected with Ivan's violet ones. Just in that brief moment... No matter how hard I tried to imagine seeing pity and forgiveness in them, maybe even the usual cheerfulness they used to luster with whenever he smiles...all I could see was hatred. The sort of hate that made me feel sorry that I existed in the universe...the hate that would wish for nothing but my total despair and imminent death.

As he held Alfred in his arms, he stared at me silently, urging me to go and never come back. Never come back to Alfred to seek forgiveness, never come back to Ivan to gain his sympathy.

I was hated. And forever I would be in Ivan's eyes.

I noted his message and gave him one last nod that stamped our immediate isolation. That moment was final. It didn't matter how hard I try, I could never win Ivan's trust anymore...likewise, his love.

But I couldn't stop the tears from reflecting the painful sorrow in my heart. I continued to bite my lower lip and swallowed it all, sucking in enough air to stop the tight knot inside my chest from making my heart ache more than it already did. And the tears just kept on falling down.

I made my way out to the meeting room; disregarding the intent looks and the mocking mutters I get as I walk past my friends...or those who used to be my friends. I carefully packed my briefcase and pushed the chair where I sat in under the table, before making my way out. I heard Arthur calling to me with insulting names and asking where I was going since the meeting was about to get started again. I didn't answer him, nor did I explain to anyone why I was leaving early. For the most part, I was thankful to be leaving them at their own gossips. I was glad I wouldn't be seeing them again in the next three years.

I was not immune to derogatory words. I was not a man who is strong enough to withstand heartaches. I was not a person who could turn cold in a second and stop crying even if the cause of it was too harsh for anyone to endure.

I couldn't bear it all. No matter how strong I looked, I am still not a heartless, emotionless toy. I am just a normal man.

I drove back home safely, wiping my tears away whenever my car was required to stop by the traffic signs. I managed to get home in one piece, despite my mental condition at the moment. I went in and locked the doors, before placing my briefcase somewhere that I eventually would forget in the next few days. I disconnected all the phone lines, even the wireless phone in my room, and switched off my cell phone.

I settled down on my bed, somewhat grateful that I could finally relax the muscles on my back and relieved myself off the headache. Still, tears continued to come out even when I rested my head on the heavenly pillow and I tried to forget what happened that day. I turned to my side, trying to get a position that would keep my whole being calm.

But as I did that, my hand went under the pillow and touched something small and blunt...like a sharp corner of a fresh new postcard. I gave out a whispery 'Ouch!' and jerked back my finger slightly; curious to what had hit it. I perked up my head a bit, making way for my hand to reach under the pillow again, while I used the other to wipe away the tears just so my vision was cleared enough to see what I had pulled out.

It was an old photograph...none other than Ivan and I inside there. The only photograph I had of us; smiling and wrapping ourselves in a cheerful manner. Ivan was smiling, and I too, surprisingly, was doing the same thing. We were so happy in that picture, as if we didn't foresee what terrible things that would happen between us after that wonderful moment.

My finger touched the image of Ivan's smiling face; something that I would never see anymore. Something I would forever dream of... Just like this; the feeling of his cheek cupped in the palm of my hand, before he pulled me closer for a kiss...

A dream. It was all a dream. All that was left of me was reality's nightmare. But dream was what I couldn't do anymore...now that everything between Ivan and I were no more.

Disconnected. Isolated. Neglected.

The love story I created with Ivan, just for Ivan was over for good.

It was so unfair that I had to carry the entire burden on my own; but what else can I do?

I stared at the photograph for God knows how long. Then, I touched my stomach, feeling the baby kicking softly against my stretched skin, and gave a quivered smile. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted to keep this picture just so when you grow up, you know how your father looks like. Even if...even if you couldn't see him in person..."

I took away my hand from the baby and both of my hands held on the photograph. I slowly pulled it closer and kissed the part where Ivan's face was imaged, and sighed heavily as I look at it again. I guess I was expecting a kiss in return, but it was just a photograph. An immobile, lifeless image. No matter how strong I wished for it, I wouldn't get a kiss in return from the Ivan in that picture.

"But I couldn't...I couldn't afford to keep having my heart broken so many times...no matter how much I stare at your father's face...no matter how much I yearned for him every night...he would never come for me..."

With a swift move, I tore the photograph into two; separating us right at the middle. For a moment, I thought I saw my image was frowning at the decision I took to tear the photograph. But after blinking a bit, I realized I was just imagining it. But even with the imagination, Ivan's image still smiles.

Maybe fate had done this on purpose. Maybe it just didn't want me to love the Russian, and that he won't love me in return. Maybe, the whole world just didn't want us to be together.

I let the torn picture drop down to the floor. I probably would just sweep them underneath my bed or cupboard, and sooner or later, I would forget about it for always. I guess...it was best that way.

My hands found themselves on my baby bump again, as I buried half of my face into the pillow, attempting to hide how horrible I looked with my flustered cheeks and puffy eyes from all the tears I shed. My breathing hitched in quiet sobs when tiredness took over, and sleep was all I really needed that time.

"P-please don't hate me...I hope you understand. I had to cut all ties with your father, even if I loved him so dearly. I couldn't bear the pain, the heartaches, the humiliation...I couldn't bear it all. Fate is cruel and unfair, and there's nothing I could do to stop it." I whispered to my unborn child, as I waited for sleep to come my way.

Nothing was planned by me and yet I was condemned for being there at the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was hated for being the invisible victim of fate. All the drama that I had to face was just another slap from the reality...but reality was using sharp knives to do it on me.

It was all a dream. I could say this to myself for eternity had it not been the nightmares that took everything away from me.

But then...there's still hope. Not only the dog, of course...but hope in the form of my unborn child. My son was my only hope and determination to continue living in this unkind world.

I could make up a whole new fantasy world for my son; I could hide him from the wicked reality that had rendered me broken. And all I asked from my baby was that he would-

"...be happy. All I wanted was to be happy...so please..."

-never leave my side and for that I would be with him.

"Please don't hate me."

Until the end.

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**A/N:** _Chapter 6 is finally up. I'm not that happy with the ending for this chapter...it sounds a bit cheesy, somehow. _  
_I know nothing about dogs, since I'm not a dog-lover...moreover the white German shepherd breed...except that they live up to 10-14 years. Forgive me if I got my facts wrong about dogs in this story._

_Don't get mad at Alfred. He's just having some hormone imbalance and somewhat a mental instability caused by his miscarriage...and probably his medications as well._

_Next chapter would be gory, though I would try my best not to be too descriptive. You can skip it if you couldn't stand childbirths; because I ensure you you won't miss anything much._


	7. It was worth it

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It was the end of July. In a few hours it's going to be August.

And I was already starting to get worried.

I had checked the pregnancy books; I had used all the supposed calculations to determine my due date...I was supposed to give birth to my son three days to a week earlier, but nothing happened. I didn't feel anything, even if I stayed still for a minute or two from doing any light work, the only thing I felt was the baby kicking gently against the wall of my stomach.

My doctor told me that I would feel irregular contractions on my abdomen, which would appear as small muscle spasms and might last for a short while. She told me it wasn't the 'real' labor, but merely signs that I should be alert with. Because at this stage of the pregnancy, anything could happen.

Though, I didn't expect this sort of delay on my son's delivery.

I know pregnancy due dates are only numbers in estimation, and birth could happen up to two weeks or so after that date. But the anticipation and fear of going through it was making me impatient. Almost every day since the supposed date of my delivery, I had been calling Dr. Eva and asking her if I should go to the hospital, if I should get a check-up on the baby. I did get a check-up, once...but I was later sent home. My doctor advised me that I should take this slowly, and that there was still a lot of time until my son would decide if he wanted to leave my womb.

I took small steps walking around my room, killing time before I go to bed. It was actually pretty hilarious to see myself in the mirror, walking just like a penguin trying to waddle itself into the waters. Or maybe like a duck. Either one, it's making a ridiculous image in my head and I laughed at the silliness. It was nice to laugh like that once in a while.

But it was definitely amusing to see how far my pregnancy had been. Since I didn't go out that much, I didn't bother to cover myself up anymore. As I stared at the mirror with my nightgown (I have to admit; nightgowns were very comfortable to wear when I was pregnant) lifted halfway up my torso, I examined the large, round stomach I was sporting. Ugly stretch marks were there, though they weren't that visible now that I had taken Dr. Eva's advice to wipe some cream on them every night. The dark line that went from the end of my sternum towards my groin was getting more visible while my belly button had already pushed itself out, forming a miniature bump on the furthest end of my stomach.

It was definitely amusing to look at it. Even more so when I think that the baby had developed fully inside my womb. I guess...that was how a pregnant woman would feel about themselves at this end phase. For all the changes it made on my body, I felt like it was worth it.

After feeling that my legs couldn't keep up with the extra weight anymore, I went to the bed and settled down. I propped up as many pillows on the curve of my back and on my huge stomach to get the comfort I was beginning to get accustomed with. My hands began to massage the roundness gently, as my eyes wandered around observing my room. Nothing much had changed in there...except the cot that was installed at one empty corner and a few other baby items that my private doctor, Eva, had generously helped me buy.

Eva was probably the only one that actually cared for me, who would actually listen to all of my problems. She acted, perhaps, like Ivan's older sister would whenever she's around the Russian. But then again; I couldn't afford being too dependent on her. She did have a husband and a family to look after anyway.

Without her, I probably would have fallen further into the darkness of all the depressing shadows that loomed upon me. Without her, I probably would have killed my child, maybe even ended up in the asylum for all the breakdowns and heartaches. Without her, I probably would have completely forgotten about what my baby needed once it was born...

In the third week of June, I made my final ultrasound on the baby. And that was when Dr. Eva asked me if I had bought all the important things for my son - his cot, his clothes, his diapers, his bathtub and all the hygienic products like soap and shampoo, his toys, his carrier and stroller. My only response to her was an embarrassed and surprised look mixed together in a mesh of confusion. I did read in books that babies would need certain things and I did plan to buy some of them online, since I couldn't go into a maternity shop without dragging suspicious looks behind me...but at that point, I realized I didn't even bought anything for my son. Not even a toy!

She sighed heavily when she saw my face. I didn't expect her to be happy with me, of course...but she told me she didn't blame me for not knowing anything much. I know she was censuring herself for it.

And because of that self-blaming, she came to my house the next weekend after the check-up. Together with her husband and the many baby items she bought just for my son.

I was speechless for a moment when I opened the door and found her with a teddy bear in her hand; which sported a German-flag ribbon around its neck and a tag reading 'Congratulations!'...and her husband was carrying a large box with a picture of a cot as he walked towards my front porch. He put the box down next to my doctor alongside a folded pram, a baby carrier and a few other things I recognize from a baby items catalogue.

"D-Dr. Eva...what's all these...d-did you buy them for me?! I...I didn't-" She gave me a smile and playfully shoved the plush toy into my arms before I could say anything much to clear the confusion in my mind.

"Well...perhaps if I didn't buy all these items, I don't think you would anytime soon." She bent down slightly and cooed at my baby, teasing me to embarrassment as she said; "Isn't that right, little one? Your mummy didn't want to buy you anything, hmm?"

"It's...it's not that I don't want to-! I...I mean, I was planning to buy it online and have the shop deliver it to me...!" I could feel my cheeks heated up. It's shameful enough that my own private doctor bought things for a stranger like me, moreover to have them delivered by her own hands, straight to my doorstep. She only giggled and poked my nose.

"Don't be silly, Ludwig. Even if you did have them delivered, are you expecting to set everything up by yourself, being pregnant and all? Now be grateful you have a doctor like me." She smiled and pushed past me to get into my house. I willingly let her in, though I was dumbfounded for a moment. Her husband, of whom I only saw occasionally, in a dinner party or in my doctor's office, came in after us. He didn't look disturbed at all by the way I looked and continued to bring the items in.

As they went in and up into my bedroom, she asked, or, more like commanded, her husband to set up the cot, while she cleared the bedside tables to make way for the many foreign items – baby powder, baby oil, loads of tissue boxes and baby wipes, some gadgets I didn't even know how they worked. I insisted that I wanted to help her husband with screwing in the bolts and all, but she forced me to sit at the edge of my bed and watch them work. The two hours of sitting there silently and watching them doing things that I should have started doing before my pregnancy reached its third trimester…it was very awkward, to wait there and watch other people doing work that I could have done on my own…despite carrying a baby at nearly its full term.

The cot that Eva bought came with a canopy. Honestly, I would leave the canopy out due to safety reasons…but then again, I knew nothing about baby cribs and the things that came with them. So, I let them do what they wanted in my personal space. She finished her part before her husband and then, she led me down towards the living room where she gave me a bag full of baby clothes.

I was silent as my hands took the gifts she gave me. It wasn't that I didn't want them to help me…but I was, in no doubt, speechless ever since they arrived at my house with all the things they brought along with them.

She made me feel less lonely with her presence and her supportive words. A person like her made my world seemed worth it, and for that, I was very grateful to have someone like her.

I swallowed back the threatening tears from coming out and held on the bag in my arms. I tried so hard not to look weak in front of her, but my tears were too powerful…even if I could hold back a bit of them, they still made my eyes watery.

"_Danke_…I…I guess I'm really useless without you…doctor-"

"Oh, don't be so formal, Ludwig. And you're welcome." She smiled softly, before wrapping her arms around my body to embrace me. Of course, her hug could only go so far with my protruding belly getting in the way between us. "I will do anything to ensure you are happy. You're like a brother to me, Ludwig. Like a family."

Oh, God. Every single note that decanted out from her mouth sent strings of sorrow into my heart. It had been a long time indeed…since someone ever done things for me, since my brother's death. Gilbert...even if he was such a nuisance sometimes, even if he was always that lazy man I had to live with until his untimely demises…I was sometimes always helpless without him. He was the only family member I had. The only brother who really took care of me for years...

And here I thought I could live on without him; survive without anyone helping me.

Eva pulled away after a moment of hugging me and gave a soft peck on my cheek. "Ah, don't frown too much…that'll make your baby unhappy. Why not we have tea, while waiting for George to finish up?" As usual, she didn't wait for my response, and proceeded to take the bag from my arms and placed them on the couch; before leading me to the kitchen. She made me sit at the kitchen table while she made the tea she promised.

"So…have you thought of a name for the baby boy?"

"...umm…well, I...I'll think of something...I mean, there are so many names...it's not easy to choose..." I cursed at myself silently. Why did I always have to lie to her when I know she could read through me? Truthfully, I hadn't even started searching for my son's name yet. If I could easily delay buying baby stuff for my son, how else wouldn't I delay choosing his name?

"Ludwig..." She sighed, as she came to the table with the tea set in a tray, complete with the cookies she found on the kitchen counter set up in a plate. She sat down opposite me and I only lowered my gaze to table. She took the teapot and poured tea into one of the cups, and placed it in front of me. "You should have been more prepared for the baby. You don't look like a man who would postpone important matters like this...

"As if...you don't want your son, and you don't want to do anything for him."

My tongue was tied and silence took it to its advantage. I lowered my head even more, ashamed to meet eye-to-eye with my doctor. I couldn't really tell her about what happened that day; when I had to face my colleagues' jeers and Alfred's suspicions on my pregnancy, when I went back home early and tore the only photograph I had of Ivan and I, when I had to suffer heartaches after heartaches. Even if I had told half lies to her uncle during our sessions, they weren't enough to paint the big picture of what I had to go through.

I knew I had accepted that life had tortured me mercilessly, I had accepted my son's fate that he would grow up without a father...but I didn't know if I actually wanted it to be this way. At that point I wasn't sure, if I was really ready to be a father, or mother in this case, if I was ready to see my baby...

I wasn't sure if I was only acting nonchalantly due to acceptance...or denying myself of all the things that happened. I wasn't sure if I was blaming my son for all the pain-

No. That shouldn't be it. It was never my fault, nor my son's. I have no right to point my finger to my unborn child and accused him for anything.

I wanted to be a good parent. I wanted my son to have a normal, happy life. I wanted to give him the love I never managed to give Ivan...

"I'm sorry, Eva...I...it's not that I don't want to...m-maybe I was a bit anxious about the birth and...with all the things that happened; the piles of work I had and sometimes the depression...I just couldn't stop for a moment and think about the baby..." For once, I managed to spurt out truths instead of veiling my words with white lies. I was sighing in relief when I saw her smiling widely again.

"Ah. Forget about what I said, Ludwig. I know you don't deserve that little slap of reality." She pinched my cheek and giggled, while I winced at the sudden gesture. "Drink your tea before it gets cold."

"Well, how about me?"

Eva's husband, George, came down and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. He was a very handsome, well-built man and had a smile almost similar to Ivan's. If he hasn't had the scar on his forehead and the constant furrowing of his brows, he would have been perfect appearance-wise. He gave us a smirk and went towards the table, settling down beside my doctor. She kissed his cheek and offered him a cup of tea.

"So...Ludwig! Eva told me you're pregnant. How far and long are you?"

"I'm...I'm about eight months. The baby is due in less than a month..." I answered the enthusiastic man with a fair blush on my face, as my fingers twiddled the cup's handle.

"Ah...that's going to be in July, right? Eva, babyluv..." He gave another peck on her cheek to get her attention. "Is Ludwig going to have a...a surgery or something? I mean, he's a man and I don't think his baby could, you know...push itself out from between his legs. From what you told me, I can guess his opening isn't wide enough...Whoa, no offense, Ludwig..." He looked at me again, slightly concerned, but I waved a hand at him, telling him it was okay and I didn't took what he said badly. In fact, I even laughed at his amusing antics.

"So far tests proved that his baby is currently at the right position, its placenta is not blocking his cervix and his pelvic bone had grown wide enough for the baby the go through." She gave me an assuring smile before continuing; "It could be risky, of course...if the baby comes around too early, or if there's complications during labor, I would have to do a Caesarean section on you...Ludwig."

I couldn't say I was expecting such a procedure for my son's birth, but I couldn't say I was not surprised of it either. I had read enough that childbirth would be painful one way or another. I understood that by choosing a normal childbirth was like balancing my life on death's fingertip. Anything could happen at that stage...

I gave her a nod, flustering still. "I know...I...I'll try my best to get prepared for the birth...I'm...ah, I cannot lie...I am really scared just thinking about it..." A chuckle managed its way out of me, and it succeeded in making the other two persons smile wider.

"Aha! Don't worry about it, Ludwig! I'm sure my little wife here can handle that for you...ah, look at me again...rambling on things that make people uncomfortable." George laughed and started to ask me on other things; my work, my house, my car...

We chatted on common matters, sometimes whimsical stuff. We even had another tea serving and I even went to make more cookies after that. They did most of the talking though...and after a few hours, I was left only listening to their stories and jokes. Watching them teasingly poking each other's sides, giggling and blushing like new lovebirds...

I watched them silently with a contented smile. They painted a perfect picture of a lovely couple. The perfection didn't really show in their looks, of course...a beautiful lady like her should have gotten a well-groomed husband. Nevertheless, their sincere smiles towards each other shone beyond that stereotypical thoughts, and in any human's eyes, they are simple perfect for each other. And as the old saying says; love is blind.

I wished love was blind on me too.

At least...I don't have to endure the pain of watching other people loving each other while I sit around and wait for a person who doesn't love me to love me back.

As I rubbed on my stomach under the table, my blue eyes still glancing at the happy pair in front of me, I realized all the wishful thinking, all the yearning for Ivan to show a tiny bit of affection towards me wasn't worth my time. The pain he caused me, the humiliation of being forced to submit to the defeat...they weren't worth my life.

All that mattered was my son. His love, his happiness, his future...

For everything I had gone through, I bear with them for my little one.

Just for him.

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It was five days into August and still nothing changed much.

The only thing I felt was my stomach growing bigger and I had slight difficulty in breathing, let alone moving around without resting for a few minutes. Every day since a week before the supposed date of my son's birth, I had to go through these problems and it wasn't the happiest time of my pregnancy. Somehow time had reverted back similar to the first few months of carrying my child.

But even then, I couldn't blame it entirely on the pregnancy. Bad events happened, many hearts were broken...My body had been under so much stress; trying to cope with the pain took me longer than I expected. I knew I shouldn't be depressed for the sake of my son's health, but I couldn't help it.

In the last month of my pregnancy, I had begun to worry about the baby. It never ceased to make me wonder if my own health; mentally and physically; had affected his development in a bad way. Though the ultrasound showed that he's alright, I still couldn't dismiss the thought that I had harmed him somehow.

Moreover, the back pain came to me once more early that day. It was not as bad as the first time I had it in the early stages of my pregnancy, thank goodness, but I recognized it right away. The pain was slightly unbearable in the beginning, but then it slowly dispersed into irregular throbs, rendering my body somewhat sore and tired over time. It didn't stop me from eating, though, and for some reason unknown to me at that moment, I felt like bloating myself with food.

I had a notion that the odd feeling on my back and lower abdomen was the 'irregular contractions' that my private doctor had told me about. I was excited the first time I had the grasp of what the discomfort was, relieved that it was finally time...but after a few hours I felt frustrated by it. The intensity didn't change; in fact, it was decreasing by the minute.

A false alarm.

I stayed home that day, massaging my bulging stomach whenever I had the chance to. Right after sunset, the throbs had changed into a soother stance and I knew by then that that wasn't the day I'm going to see my son. The night was mainly silence as I spent time reading and checking the small Duffel bag in, which some of my clothes and other necessities were stuffed in. Eva had advised me to prepare my belongings during her visit with her husband, just in case of an emergency. I did as told, though now I felt like it was really a waste of time...

That night, I slept with the unsatisfying thought that it was just another fruitless day. I wouldn't be seeing my son anytime soon.

Apparently, I was wrong. So wrong.

About four in the morning, I woke up slightly startled by a jutting pain on my abdomen. I was half awake and half dazed when it happened, and it didn't came to mind that I was having yet another set of contractions. This time, they were stronger and came around a few minutes apart. I didn't know how long I had experienced them, but from the intensity of it, I was sure it had been a while...and sleep had eventually hid them from my senses.

I grunted and carefully climbed off my bed, making my way slowly to the bathroom. I couldn't really tell what I was thinking but instinct told me to empty my bowels by then. Description of the pain wasn't easy, but I could say it felt like I haven't taken a dump for a week and suddenly everything wanted to burst out of my body.

I sat on the toilet, doing my business, still slightly drowsy from sleep. Only when I realized the throbs and ache didn't go away after I had defecate did I finally became aware that I was going through the first stage of labor. The real one this time.

A groan escaped my mouth when I noticed how strong the contractions became and despite the relief of finally meeting the end of my pregnancy, the fear and panic had started to surface up. I could feel cold sweat dripping down my face as I made my way back to the bed, searching for my cell phone blindly with one hand; while my other hand cradled my stomach. I nearly forgot how to breathe normally and just sat on my bed, trying my best to suppress my panic to an uncontrollable level and quickly opened up my contact list in the phone.

For a brief second, of which I had no clue as to why, I pressed on Ivan's number.

My eyes glanced at the many numbers that displayed under his name, under the icon that showed his sweet face. I swallowed once, the pain forgotten for a moment.

Why? Why was I thinking of him at a time like this?

Did I really need him that bad? Did I really want him to come and help me go through this?

It's not worth my time. Calling him now, begging him to aid me even...it's not worth it at all.

I couldn't...I shouldn't...be thinking of him...or was I...?

My finger hovered less than half an inch from the call button for a few more seconds, as my mind contemplated whether to go to hell with it and click or to give up and divert elsewhere. One more shock of pain that left me grunting again finally made me choose the latter and I searched through the names once more. When I came by on my doctor's number, I clicked it and clicked the call button. Trying to relax, I listened and waited for her to pick up the phone. I wished she was home, or at least knew I was calling...because, by God, I was so scared-

"Hello...?"

I swallowed my saliva again, just so my throat wasn't dry when I respond to her greeting. Oh, God. The pain was escalating... "E-Eva? Eva, it's...it's Ludwig. I think it's time..." I grunted more. The pain had started to become very uncomfortable at that moment, and my brain fully concentrated on the waves coming in and out on my abdominal muscles; making my surroundings feel utterly ineffectual.

"What?" I heard the surprised tone in her voice, mixed with a slight delight. There was silence for a few seconds, and I was guessing she was trying to make sure I wasn't pulling her leg. "H-how...how long...when did you feel the contractions, Ludwig? Were they recent or-"

"I don't know...ngh- M-my water hasn't broken yet...but the pain..."

"Oh..okay...Ludwig, listen...you remember what I taught you? Breath according to the contractions...breathe and relax..." I nodded at the phone and whimpered a bit when my first attempt to breathe evenly was interrupted yet with another thrust of pain. "I'll come and pick you up and drive you to the hospital. Wait downstairs with your belongings; I'll be there as soon as possible."

I heard her calling her husband's name before her voice was replaced by a click and a beacon-like tone. I ended the call and braved myself to get up and dress in a more appropriate, before making my way down the stairs with the packed bag and towards the door. I managed to unlock the door before the pain came back again and I was slightly immobile as I held my stomach, trying yet again to calm down.

There was conveniently a wooden chair I placed near the door. Usually I would sit on it when I wear my shoes before going out for my daily work-outs, or when I polish the many leather shoes I owned during the weekends. And at that moment my heart whispered a thank you to the chair for being there. I sat down with my back rigid against its board and placed a palm on the source of my current agony.

But...despite my condition, I still managed to draw a smile on my face. More than two weeks...I had waited for my son that long and now I could finally see him. My little savior who was always there when I felt down; my little hero who was always making me smile with his little kicks...

I was well aware that my job wasn't done yet. As I waited for Eva to come and fetch me up, my mind kept rocking back and forth, distress and enthusiasm showing off one minute to the next. But I couldn't deny how strong the fear felt. I was a person who was raped brutally and the thought of possibly carrying a deformed child due to what happened kept on filling in my head. The rational part of my brain kept pushing them aside, of course, replacing the empty spaces with the memory of the images of my son on the ultrasound monitor, the memory of the soft kicks he would make when I cry alone on my bed remembering Ivan-

No. No, I didn't remember him. I couldn't afford to waste my energy thinking about him…

He didn't love me, he hated me now...and it's never worth anything to tell him about what I was going through at that moment; the labor pains, the excitement of finally being able to see my son, our son, the need to hold his hand as I wait for my doctor to come to us with the baby wrapped in her arms, as she said to me-

"Ludwig! Ludwig, can you hear me?"

I felt myself stirred from whatever sitting position I was in, looking at my doctor as if I was looking through a dream. I felt light-headed and I had nothing to blame it on but the labor pains. The contractions were still making their merry way through my muscles, though. And it made me let out a displeased grunt. "W-what happened...?" I asked, though my voice was raspy, sounding as if I just swallowed smoke.

"You must have passed out. Can you get up?" She asked as her hand rested on my forehead for a moment. I must have looked badly pale and feverish to deserve that hand. I gave her a nod and slowly got up with her help, still not too happy with the tightness around my midsection. I saw George coming in and taking my bag first hand, before coming towards us to help me walk, but Eva placed her hand up to stop him. "It's okay...I got him. Just lock the door, honey."

My brain couldn't really compute the moment she brought me in slow careful steps up to her car and seated me in the backseat. The next thing I knew, George was already in the driver's seat, driving us to the hospital. Eva continued to sooth me, of which I was thankful for. As we arrived, it was George's turn to help me out while my doctor called out to the nurses to bring out a wheelchair for me. I let them do everything as I was too engrossed in concentrating my mind on the cramps in the middle of my abdomen. The fear of something going wrong was getting intense by the minute.

And the wet feeling in between my legs didn't help me to calm down one bit.

I was brought into a large room with a bigger, more comfortable-looking bed than the normal ones I used to be in, when I had heavy injuries and needed medical attention in a hospital for a few days. There was also that familiar ultrasound machine in the room, and other strange medical gadgets I had never seen before, neatly arranged on a tray. There were even surgical instruments of which, I had no doubt, will be used on me in case something went wrong in the middle.

I noticed blood coming out from that small opening of my 'female part' just as the nurse told me to undress and wear a pink hospital gown, probably meant for the women in the maternity ward. At first I only saw the smudged stain of it on my pants...then, blood started to flow down my thighs. You wouldn't know how panicked I felt. All the negative thoughts, all the fear that accumulated in my head just busted out and I whimpered loudly.

Eva, who was already dressed in scrubs, came to me immediately, perhaps sensing that I was uneasy about something. "B-blood..." was all I could mutter to her, but she understood and patted me on the shoulder to lessen my anxiety.

"It's normal, Ludwig. That amount of blood is not a dangerous sign, and it's just telling you that you cervix is dilating. Come...lie down on the bed and spread your legs. We'll clean that for you." She led me to the bed, trying to keep me off from thinking too much about the red liquid dripping onto the linoleum floor...or the realization I was about to get half naked with my legs open in front of women. Oh, God...it was probably the most embarrassing moment in my life!

I did as told and one of the nurses started to wipe me clean. If it wasn't for the mixed emotions and the contractions escalating, I would have done it myself. I held back the embarrassment, trying not to look so awkward in this biggest moment of my life...

Hours passed by and I kept on grunting and whimpering on that bed, waiting for the laboring process to finish and changing postures to keep myself feeling comfortable and less in pain. I was encouraged to pee every hour to ease the labor somewhat. Sometimes I would walk around in the room, stopping only when the intensity heightened. The room didn't have any windows, but I bet the sun had risen and had come close to the peak of noon. Being half naked and seeing more blood coming out didn't bother me at that point onward, as I barely had three minutes rest between the contractions that took my utmost attention. One of the nurses urged me to eat, to restore some energy before the pushing as she said, but I had really lost interest in food. After more urging though, the only thing I could put through my mouth was water.

My private doctor kept coming to me every half an hour, checking my heart rate, my baby's heart rate through a device they had strapped around my stomach. A few hours later, the pain started to get intense and I was starting to feel tired, despite breathing just as I was taught to by the nurses. When Dr. Eva came around again, I asked her; half wincing to the pain; "How much longer?" I had a feeling I had asked her the same question over and over again...I couldn't help it; the pain was too strong and I wanted it to be over with immediately.

"When you feel the urge to push, Ludwig...don't worry, you and the baby are doing fine." She smiled as she rubbed my contracting belly, probably an attempt to ease my pain. And I had to admit the touch was relaxing me a bit.

"Eva...is it...is it possible to just...cut me open...? The pain is too much...it's been hours and the baby is still inside. What if...Oh, _Herrgott_...I don't think I could..." I whimpered; somehow I was begging and crying to her to relief me from this pain and fear...just like a child who just had his first shot on his arm. Eva again assured me that both my son and I were doing fine, and with that she left me to go through the active phase for another half an hour.

Truly...at that moment, I wished I could hold Ivan's hand tightly, I wished I could listen to his voice distracting me from the growing rough waves that gripped in my stomach.

I was yearning for Ivan's presence.

Ivan's hate and my ignorance be damned. I really needed him at that moment.

But even if I wanted him to be there...and if he was there, what would he do? After what happened recently, obviously he wouldn't fulfill my wish to hold his hand, let alone watch me through the childbirth.

If my late brother was there, he would certainly stay by my side and hushed the pain away for me. If Alfred was there, he would have strangled me to death. If my other colleagues were there, they would perhaps laugh and sneer at my misery. But if Ivan was there instead-

A sharp pain on the lower part of my baby bump stopped my mind from thinking further and I groaned out loud. I spurted out vulgar words in German...this pain was very different than before. The contractions had skyrocketed and they seemed to stay at their highest point in such a long time. It was shameful for a man like me to do it, but I was literally crying at the pain.

The pain was too much to bear...

In that climatic moment, I had made a number of embarrassing things. Just a few minutes after feeling that extreme labor pains, I threw up the things I ate hours before onto the floor. I wasn't sure if it was common to feel nauseous at this stage, but the nurses didn't seem fazed by it and simply cleaned the acidic mush that I made.

Then, something wet came out from between my legs. It wasn't blood, it wasn't feces either. And I was sure nothing came out of my phallus...especially not in a way that the liquid was soaking the edge of the bed where I was sitting at that moment. At first it felt like I had just wetted myself, but when I got up to make my way to the bathroom, more of this 'water' came out, in big gushes nonetheless. Again, the recently cleaned floor was stained by me.

I didn't know how many times I had apologized to the nurses for all the mess I made. I understood later that these were normal in a childbirth session, even for a woman, and these people were used to it happening in the maternity room. They briefly cleaned me up and changed the sheets, before bringing me back to the bed.

That was when they started to circle around me, adjusting my position and piling a lot of pillows behind me; somehow attempting to make me feel comfortable. They checked my heart rate and my baby's heart rate, while one of them spread my legs and inserting her fingers inside my 'female part', feeling around inside before telling another nurse to call my doctor; saying something about me being fully dilated and the 'pushing' would start any time soon. At that point I didn't really care what was happening, all I wanted was to stop feeling the pain and stop crying to it.

However, after a while, the pain ceased slightly and the contractions weren't as intense anymore. And somehow I felt a bit relieved...I was able to smile and rest for a while. Though I was panting tiredly, I managed to converse with the nurses; answering their curious questions about how I got pregnant, how did it felt like, et cetera...of course; they barely knew me, so I manage to lie to them. Hiding the fact that this baby I was about to give birth to was a product of me being raped...

Dr. Eva came in wearing similar scrubs like the nurses, smiling radiantly at me...and for the first time since the beginning of the labor, I returned it. She sat on the bed and wiped the sweat beading on my forehead, combing back some of the soaked bangs off. "You're doing great, Ludwig. You're almost coming to the end of this birthing...are you ready to see your baby?"

"M-maybe..." I blushed but still cracked another smile. I looked down at my stomach and chuckled, jokingly saying; "I think I'm going to miss having a round fat tummy and that penguin walk I used to do...perhaps the heaviness and the many cravings I had while carrying him as well."

She chuckled along; same goes to the nurses who were still tending to my comfort. "So...did you think of a name for your son? Don't tell me you haven't Ludwig..."

My laughter died slowly. It's true...I haven't thought of naming the little one just yet. And an excuse like not having a book on baby names wasn't worth it. There are so many names I could choose from, even Germanic names listed up to the hundreds.

But only one name came into my mind and I doubt that I could ever forget it.

Ivan. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan is the only name I could think of. My mind was full of it and it was nearly impossible to push it aside to make way for other names...No matter how hard I tried to avoid the letters 'I', 'V', 'A' and 'N', I always came back into thinking of them.

Then I thought about the owner of that name...the man whom owned up to that name, the man whom I loved and wished for, the man whose son was about to be born into this world...

And I was yet to name our son anything.

"Hans." I spoke, finally, and looked up to Eva as if I was expecting her negative reaction to the name I chose. Of course, she didn't say anything to it and only smiled. A few seconds after blurting the word out, I felt a bit idiotic for choosing something so 'normal' for my son's name. I had met so many Hans in my life since it's a common Germanic name, but I never thought I would choose Hans...

But...Hans is considered a pet name to Johannes, and Johannes is the same meaning to John. And in Russian, John is similar to...Ivan.

Ivan, Ivan. I still couldn't get my mind off him. Was I...was I really that desperate...? I shouldn't be! Ivan doesn't want me and obviously he wouldn't want the baby, even if our son's name is similar to his, even if our son's name is-

"Hans. Hans is a beautiful name...so now let's make sure Hans is delivered safely, okay?"

My doctor's voice woke me up from my daydream and I nodded to her statement. For an hour or so, I just sat on the bed with the nurses and Eva comforting me with a few massages and strokes on my forehead and arms. I felt small contractions coming in and out...and some kind of pressure working its way somewhere inside my second entrance.

It took me a while to realize that my son was already moving downwards. There was a sudden jolt of electric-like pain somewhere below my navel, on my pelvic bone. Only when I felt some sort of urge to hold my breath and 'push' did I know I was really going through the next phase. A nurse hushed and reminded me to breathe evenly, or else I would hurt the baby. I followed every instruction, thankful for every encouragement and compliment I get, and the soothing hands that kept on combing my hair and rubbing my stomach.

The pushing went on for an hour but since a few minutes after its beginning, I didn't feel any changes down there. It was as if...the baby was stuck somewhere. Despite the comforting words and the organized push they instructed on me, I had started to feel discouraged and slightly panicked. The pressure of something trying to get out was bothering me to no end; the need to relieve the baby through my pelvic bone-

It befell on me that the baby was really stuck, somewhere in the opening of my pelvic girdle. It is true that I was born with female reproductive organs, making me able to conceive a child...but, like George had said before, I am a man. Physically and structurally. My bones would probably still be the same size of any other normal men, thus proving that particular bone is going to be smaller than a woman's.

The panic didn't go away with such thoughts. I nearly scream out my doctor's name, as I glanced at her nervously. She was looking at a small glass bottle in her hand with a liquid that looks like water or oil when she looked at me, the worry starting to emerge on her face.

"E-Eva...I think the baby is stuck...I don't...I can't feel it moving..." I stammered. My chest felt heavy with fear when I spoke. Truth be told, I felt like crying again.

"Don't worry, Ludwig. Just give Hans some time...he needs to adjust himself in there." She smiled and glanced at the monitor that was strapped around my belly. "Your baby is doing fine."

"But...but...what if my pelvic bone is too small? What if...ngh...what if the baby couldn't-"

"Ludwig, we did check on that a few months ago. Your body had made a few adjustments for this day. Just breathe and it'll be alright..."

I wasn't happy with her answer of course. Something really felt amiss. Even if I did felt the contractions and the pain, the thought of the baby not being able to go through was haunting me. The pushing process went on for another hour. I felt small movements, enough to make me feel reassured, but once more I had started to feel tired. I started to feel like giving up.

My private doctor had soaked her gloved fingers in the liquid I saw earlier. It was oil. She used her fingers to perform a gentle massage inside my female entrance. No matter how much awkward it sounds, the massage was actually very relaxing. The way she pushed the inside walls softly somehow managed to allow the baby's head to move past the pelvic bone hurdle.

"Ah...I think the baby's head is moving down. You're doing well, Ludwig." Eva chirped. Her words made me sighed in relief again.

"But this is taking a bit too long...could you all help getting him up? We'll have him give birth in a squatting position." She instructed the nurses to help me squatting on my feet. They did so; one of them even brought up a handle bar for me to hold on to while being in the position.

The position was uncomfortable at first, since by then I had to strain my leg and arm muscles to stay squatting. With a displeased grunt, I asked one of the nurses why I had to sit that way. "It gives more room to the pelvic bone. And gravity eases the birth," she said.

It was true. I felt something moving lower and lower a bit faster than before, despite the pain that was still there. I couldn't really describe how it felt...it was probably almost similar as going through constipation, perhaps.

I was honestly relieved that the baby was finally moving, and kept on wincing, grunting and groaning as time passed by once again. I didn't trouble myself to look at the nurses or my doctor, as they did their job of comforting me, cleaning whatever that excreted out from between my legs and performing something they called a perennial massage on me.

"Oh...he's coming. I can see Hans's head now. Very good, Ludwig! Just one more push..."

My contractions came and I waved through them with one strong push...then I sensed something just swished down and stopped right at the opening. I was trying to catch my breath when that moment passed and was feeling very awkward about that little 'achievement'.

Oh, God. It's really hard to grasp the fact that I was finally able to see the baby. The whole deal seemed almost like a fast-forwarded dream. It felt like only yesterday I was walking around in the house with a round stomach tucked underneath my shirt...only three days ago I had my first ultrasound in the very same hospital I was in at the moment...only a week ago I was impregnated by the man that I loved the most...

Ivan's son. I was finally able to see him. After nearly forty weeks of carrying the little one inside me, I can finally see him.

"His head is visible now, Ludwig. Can you feel it?"

"_Ja_...mnh...it hurts though...feels like I'm almost being ripped apart..." I chuckled tiredly. Indeed, I felt the baby's head spreading that tiny entrance between my male groin and my anus. I don't know how wide it opened, but I knew I was close to finally finishing this birthing process.

Anytime...anytime soon...

"Do you want to touch Hans?"

"C-can I?"

Eva just smiled and pried my right hand off the squatting bar, carefully led it down past my scrotum and let it go. I didn't register that my hand was trembling out of excitement as I slowly search around with my fingers. Then, there it was. A tuft of fine soft hair clipped to the baby's scalp due to the natural lubrication my body was contributing to this process.

Anytime soon. I could finally touch and hold him fully anytime soon.

Another wave of contractions came and I did the usual work of pushing while being instructed and encouraged further. I had to admit...the new pain that came kicking in wasn't like anything before. It felt like my private parts was smoldered with red pepper and glass. The pain was so sharp I started to whimper aloud, informing to everyone present that it hurt.

It really hurt; feeling almost like someone or something was tearing my skin into shreds with its bare teeth. And that was the moment...the moment I wanted Ivan to hold my hand. The moment I needed to listen to his sweet voice telling me that I was doing great, that he couldn't wait to see our son. The moment I desired his comforting kiss on my cheek as he gave me sweet promises for our son, for me, for us.

Call it wishful thinking, a dream that would never come true, a hormone imbalance even...but I truly wanted another man's hand to hold mine and continue to encourage me throughout this new experience.

I wanted Ivan to be there with me, for me.

One of the nurses took the job of holding my hand somehow, and I used the opportunity without hesitation. I kept on whining; nearly screaming "It hurts! It hurts!" in my native language as I continued to push the baby out. The voices of the people who were attending to me were gradually blurred to a point I couldn't grasp what their encouraging words sounds like. I knew they were cheering me out, but I was too engrossed in finishing this that I didn't bother to even notice them.

But I did notice Dr. Eva's finger poking into what tight space there was between the opening and the baby's head, applying more lubricant to ease the baby out. And I did think that my birth canal would have been too small compared to an average woman. In some way I felt like suggesting to her to cut it bigger (mainly due to the fact that I couldn't take the pain any longer) but I held the idea back.

"Almost, Ludwig. You're almost there...in the next contraction, I want you to push a bit more, okay?"

I nodded, quietly panting to the tiredness. I was too exhausted coming to the end but I had to finish this. When the next contraction came, I did as told. The pain became increasingly intense at one point and I couldn't stop myself from grunting and cursing to it. I later found out that my pushing and the baby ascending had torn my perennial muscles a bit and I needed two stitches to fix it up.

The push paid off well when I felt the pressure being released and the baby's head slid out of me. Frankly I wanted to just lay back and rest, but I kept on reminding myself that that could wait until I hear my son's voice. Another wave of contractions and another hard push, Hans was finally out of my body.

I settled down on my buttocks slowly, leaned back and had my head meet the pillows, slightly relaxed to know that all the pain and discomfort that I felt for more than half a day had finally come to an end. I didn't bother to look at what the nurses was doing to Hans, or to me after that expulsion phase. It still hurt down there, but I knew I could go through it without much of a problem.

Especially when I heard the baby's cries among the soft cooing of the nurses as they cleaned him up. Oh, God. I did it. I finally did it.

Listening to the cries mimicking my own when I was raped and beaten in a secluded room, when I was sneered by my colleagues, when I was all alone and yearning for a love I could never get...I couldn't stop myself from crying. At first I was just soft sobbing, and then it grew into a bawling that didn't sound like me at all.

My body had long forgotten the pain it went through. But I continued to weep. I knew it wasn't from the nervousness or the happiness that I had went through earlier that caused my tears to fall.

It was relief.

I was relieved, not because of the painful process of giving birth to my son after more than nine months carrying him, or the end of the fifteen hours of my suffering to bring my son to the world.

I was relieved, that after all the bad things that happened to me in the past few months, the outcome was worth it.

To have my son being born, even without a father to love him and his mother, it was worth it.

No matter if Ivan hated me, if Alfred despised me, if anyone on the planet didn't want to look at me...

It was worth it.

The pain, the humiliation, the heartbreak...to go through all that in order to be able to have my own blood, a new family with me, it was damn worth it. The tears and pain meant nothing at that moment and for the first time in my life, I felt glad for crying.

The nurse who held my hand hushed and embraced me in her arms, telling me again and again that it was alright, and that I was doing great. I buried myself against her shamelessly, crying the last of my tears, before came to her side and she let go of me. My doctor had a bundle in her arms and she was smiling in the happiest smile I had ever seen.

"Congratulations, Ludwig. It's a very healthy baby boy." She came close to me and kissed me on the forehead, before showing the content of the bundle towards me. Inside it was my son, still red but cleaned and dried from all the blood and fluid, his umbilical cord was already cut. His eyes were still closed though, yet he had started to open and close his mouth as if he was chewing something. I was never deemed as a sucker for cute things, but I had to admit, looking at my newborn son feels like I was looking at the cutest thing in the world ever.

"Why don't you hold Hans while we wait for your placenta to be delivered?"

At first I was slightly confused. Nervous too. I had never held a child in my arms, let alone a newborn. I slowly took the bundle into my arms with Eva helping me to hold it the correct way. When she and the nurse left to attend to my lower part, I looked into the bundle.

There he was. My little savior, my little hero. Never failed to make me smile even if he wasn't kicking from inside my stomach now...

I took the time to observe the little one. His small tuff of hair was a dark blonde and he had a brown birth mark on his chest, surprisingly shaped almost like a tiny heart. Hans was quite a big baby but I didn't find it a problem since it only added to his adorable chubbiness.

Hans squirmed in my arms and snuggled close to get the heat emitting from my body. I was still sweating and panting when I had him with me...but I took no heed and was partially grateful to be able to give him a little comfort for the first time he stepped out to this world.

I slowly caress his soft cheek with the tip of my index finger. He formed a brief smile as if he knew who was touching him. As if he knew I was that person whom he always comforted, whom he never ceased to try to cheer up every day.

I wanted to cry. Oh, God. If there really was a miracle to all miseries in the world, I was looking at it right then.

Definitely, it was worth it. My son worth more than anything in the world...

I bent slightly and pecked on Han's little forehead, smiling widely despite the tears that finally decided to do their usual work of rolling down my cheeks again. I swallowed a couple of times, not wanting to lose my voice when I say the word;

"Hello."

Damn. It still came out quivery and raspy, but I knew my son heard it when he squirmed again. His cute reaction was enough to make me giggle in joy. I continued to kiss and caress his cheeks softly, while the nurses and my doctor pull out the placenta out of my body and doing more fixes before they could bring me to another room to rest.

And rest was what I did. I couldn't tell how long I had slept, but it really didn't matter. I earned up to it, and when I woke up, there would be nothing else in that mattered in my life the most than my little boy, Hans.

There would be no more nightmares after this. No more pain to go through when my son is around.

Life goes on and I could finally share it with someone. This time, I could finally stop yearning for someone to be loved, stop wishing for someone to be with me for the rest of my life. Although it wasn't Ivan, it was still alright.

This time I knew, I absolutely wasn't alone anymore.

And I hope it's forever...

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**A/N:** _You're feeling sick now? Good. I told you before that this chapter will concentrate on Ludwig giving birth now, didn't I? So why didn't you skip this chapter, hmm?_

_So yeah...childbirth...just so you know the reason I was a bit late in posting up this chappie is because childbirth is one heck of a long process. It's not just pain, hospital, push and baby out. Nope. One stage have at least three levels of intensity, and there are three stages a pregnant woman will go through. And dayumn, pushing the baby out sure doesn't make the mother sexy in any way. Especially when you know the mother can pass out gas, urinate, expel feces and vomit freely during labor and birth._

_This chapter is probably had the least angst in this story. Probably same goes to the next chapter when Ludwig have brief happy moments with his baby boy. And his son's name is Hans, yes, I'm sort of in between of being lazy to find a better name and liking the name Hans on Germans in general for as long as I could remember._

_I own nothing but my beloved OC George, the Scarface-like guy who's actually rather sweet in his own way. He had appeared/referred to in one or two of my stories, and in one RP, he's the bad guy who raped Ludwig. Yeah._


	8. We deserved happiness

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It was New Year's Eve.

And every time I looked at that photograph, time seemed to walk backwards to that moment. The moment when I first had Hans in my arms.

One of the nurses that attended to me requested for a picture right before they moved me to another cleaner room, because, well, perhaps for an average person, seeing a buffed man like me going through childbirth and was then holding a baby in his arms was something uncommon and entertaining to them nonetheless.

I had to admit that I look pretty hilarious in the picture. I was sweating buckets with my cheeks stained with the dried tears, my hair looked as if a strong wind had blew in, there were also faint dark circles under my eyes. And my tired smile...God, if it was crooked like how it was when I tried so hard to smile, the photograph would have gotten the funniest photo award of all time.

But that smile I showed was a rarity, a one-time deal. I think anyone would know by now that I'm not the type of man who could give a smile honestly. But this one...the one in the photograph...it was definitely my honest, my real smile. Maybe it was just a lucky capture by the camera that I happened to have my lips curved that way.

...or maybe it's because of my little baby boy who was quietly sleeping; wrapped in a white towel and tucked firmly in the fold of my arms. Who would never smile after so much hard work had paid off with such a wonderful gift?

I had the picture nicely framed and had since decorated the bedside table with it as a small reminder of one the best experiences I had in my life. After staring at it for a few minutes, I placed it back to its original place. And that was when I heard Hans cooing in his cot. He's already up from his short afternoon nap.

I got up from the bed and walked to the cot, bending a bit to meet the little one. Now that he had opened his eyes, looking at them felt like staring into a mirror; Hans's irises are as blue as mine though they shone more beautifully. His nose was small too; probably when he grows up he would take most of my features. The only thing that connected him with his father was his hair. His small tuft of dark blonde hair had gradually fallen off and now a new hair colour had started to grow on his scalp, making a fine carpet of light ash blonde hair.

...just like Ivan's.

It bothered me, no doubt. No matter how different his face was from Ivan's traditional Slavic one, the colour of that hair was unmistakable. Fortunately I didn't have to go to any meetings, I didn't have to meet anyone for the next two years and a half...at least; the fact that I could still hide Hans from being known to the world would still keep me feeling relieved.

Hans cooed again when he saw me, moving his arms and legs excitedly, waiting for me to carry him. I smiled and carefully scooped him up, before kissing him on the cheek. He returned the gesture with a toothless grin and a sound that indicated he was happy with my presence. I let him wriggle in my arms while he blabbered in his own language, something that sounded like 'ba-ba-ba-ba', before taking him away from his little bed and down the stairs towards the living room.

There was a baby mat that I conveniently placed in the middle of the room, just in case I needed to put Hans down for a moment while I do something else. I carefully place Hans on the mat; already warm from the heat radiator at the other side of the room; where he slowly rolled over onto his stomach. I giggled at the cute move and sat down next to him. Soft toys were scattered everywhere but I knew which one was his favorite - a white puppy plush that I bought for his first Christmas. He displayed such an excited face that morning when I brought him onto my bed and presented the little gift in front of him. He didn't stop laughing and squealing when I wriggle the plush toy in my hand.

And just like then he was doing the same thing. He blabbered out in a high pitch voice and squealed before trying to reach for the toy. I tried to put it further away from him, just so I could encourage him to crawl, maybe just to let him slide his body towards it. Hans did try to move; wriggling and kicking his legs so he could reach his favourite puppy toy...but after a while he gave up and just cried in dissatisfaction.

I chuckled and pushed the soft toy closer to him. I guess I could have him practice crawling in the next week or so. Hans took the toy and started to coo at the plush and gnaw its ear, as if he was expecting a motor reaction from it. After a while I took Hans onto my lap and let him sit with me while I turned on the television.

A time like this was when I was the closest to my son. I would play with him, trying to imitate his moves, trying to encourage him to imitate mine...I would feed him if he was hungry, bath and change him when he was dirty, tuck him to bed when he was sleepy.

It was tedious work taking care of an infant, I had to admit.

The first and second months after Hans's birth were the worst. Not only I had to deal with the baby's constant crying in the middle of the night to the early morning, to be aware of his health and cleanliness every day of the week...I also had to deal with myself. I thought my little 'suffering' during the labor had ended for good...somehow another sort of misery managed to get its way through and into my body.

The few weeks after the birth, I started to feel an awfully painful headache, pounding at every part of my head. Like the early contractions, it came almost irregularly. Sometimes the headache was so intense that I felt like I lost a bit of my sanity with every beat of it. I vaguely remember it, but I had many times yelled at my son, telling him to stop crying and leave me alone because my head hurts and I didn't want to deal with him, while I paced the room bowing down my head with my hands clamped on each side of it. Even if rationality and motherly instincts would kick in after that, the minutes spent screaming at poor innocent Hans left me with a very heavy guilt.

But I couldn't help myself. The feeling of anxiousness, the feeling like something wasn't right kept on clamping itself to me and eating me alive. At times I felt like someone was whispering into my ears, fishing all the negative thoughts I had long buried in my memory out into the world for me to see.

Ivan raping me, hammering his fists into my face...Ivan saying the wrong name, loving someone else instead of me...Alfred falling down the stairs, losing his baby in the process...Everyone isolating me, blaming me for being the bad man in everything...

My fault. My fault. All my fault.

_I deserved it_, it said.

I deserved the humiliation, the shame of carrying a rapist's child, the hatred from the man I loved, the disgust from those who cared for me, the revenge of the many people that died in my name, it said.

I wasn't alright. Every hour, I felt like I just lost a pinch of my sanity, no matter if I was engulfed in the silence of the morning, or the noise of my baby crying at night.

Sometimes simple matters like seeing the dishes not arranged properly in the cupboard according to their type, size and colour could make me rage like a wild animal hungry for a prey. That was when my housekeepers were the victims. I would scold them, complaint to them about how much I suffered with the headaches and tiredness and how badly I did not want to deal with the wrong things they did...I even deliberately smashed a plate or two to the floor forcing them to step on it as a harsh lesson for them to learn.

Hans received the dribbles of my anger too. One time, I nearly suffocate my baby with a pillow to stop him from crying. He was crying out of hunger and I was in my study room, doing my paperwork. I kept calling to the housekeeper to take care of him, but after a while with no sign of the crying ceasing down, I got impatient and stormed into my bedroom, clenching a pillow in my hand. I didn't know what got into me; the only thing in my mind was to shut the baby up. Luckily one of the housekeeper saw what I was about to do and quickly stopped me. I gave a strong slap to her face that I bet bruised her fine complexion afterwards. She never worked for me since then.

And since then as well, I knew I needed help. I couldn't afford to have the headache and the anger left unmanaged; I could kill my son for real if I let it go on. I met my psychiatrist, , to seek for help. We talked and talked for hours...in the middle of the counseling, Hans cried again and I became the monster I was; yelling at the poor baby to shut up. Dr. Liam suspected I was suffering a depression...most probably a post-natal depression. He finally decided I would need some medications to easethe headache, and that I need to rest while I wait my hormones to balance back to their original amount. He even assigned me to two sessions per week of psychological therapy to manage the anger and impatience birthed from this depression.

The medications and therapy sessions worked well, fortunately. But thanks to the uncalled hormone imbalance and the negative things that came along with it, I couldn't hire any housekeeper to help me around the house anymore.

I didn't mind. People come and go. They died and they left, they hated and they left, they feared and they left. Just like how Gilbert had to breathe his last air, how Ivan hated me and stopped regarding me as a friend, how everyone glared at me for the things I did to Alfred...

_I deserved it_, they said.

And I listened. I listened and nearly made my child the victim of their uncanny voices echoing in my head.

It was a close call. Fate knew plenty when it comes to driving one into insanity. Fate was cruel and it almost turned me into a real murderer.

It wasn't fair. Fate wasn't fair, it knew no mercy.

But we deserved to smile; we deserved the happiness we longed for. And that was all I wanted for my son. My little savior.

Hans squealed happily in my arms, provoking attention away from my thoughts. His toy puppy had long being kicked away and his excitement relied solely on the colourful commercials that screened through the television. And at that moment was a commercial about a coming children's show that would be aired tomorrow; featuring a cartoon dog and a cartoon cat of some sort. I didn't know much about cartoons myself, but it seemed the dog had taken my son's attention the most.

Strange that he loved dogs as much as I did. It was as if we shared the same interest even before we knew each other. It was a trait and a miracle that I was definitely contented with...and it only reminded me more of wanting to either buy Hans a puppy for his first birthday, or if it was possible, adopt Hope, the white German shepherd who used to accompany me during my lunch break. Either option, I was sure Hans would be happy with it.

We stayed in the living room until late afternoon, when my own tummy decided to growl in hunger. Dinner was definitely not that far off, but somehow I didn't feel like cooking anything. A New Year was coming after all...and living alone sure had its advantage when it came to moments like this-

No. I wasn't alone this time. Definitely not alone.

I have Hans with me.

"Hans...it's New Year's Eve today." I snuggled softly into his fine ash blonde hair and kissed his cheek, and he returned them with his cute signature laugh. "Let's spend the night outside...together...we can have dinner somewhere in a French restaurant...maybe Italian...then maybe we can take a walk in a park; wait for the fireworks to light up the sky..."

I used to want to do all these with Ivan. Having dinner in a fancy restaurant, keeping each other warm as we take a stroll in a park, kissing under the starlit sky...alas, they were all, as how most people would say, dreams.

But, even if they would remain dreams, I still could spend my time with my son. Hans was substituting Ivan's presence, he was filling up that empty hole that used to hold Ivan's love in my heart…and for that, I was very grateful.

We stayed close to one another, watching the nonsensical cartoon shows and sometimes playing with the toys on the mat, until it was an hour before sunset. I left Hans rolling on the mat for a minute or two, while I prepared his formula and keep it warm in its case. I then took Hans up to the bedroom that we shared and lay him down on the bed; where he obediently stayed and just wriggle around and chewing his knuckles, while I filled the tub with warm water and took out the our clothes, laying them down beside the baby. After I decided on what warm clothes we should wear before we start our little trip out in the open, I started to strip ourselves naked and carefully I carried him into the bath with me.

Hans wasn't the type to like baths like how I thought a baby would. The first time I dipped him up to the waist, into the bathtub while I sat out of it, he wailed non-stop until I took him out of the water and dried him. It was a bit of a traumatic experience for me and definitely for him as well. But somehow the little one wasn't so shaky if I went inside with him. And dipping into the warm, cozy water with him was what I did.

At first, Hans looked scared, as he watched the pond of water below his feet. He clung on me like a cat, though he made no sound as I lowered him down more and settled him on my lap. Only when I started to lather baby soap on his body did he finally giggle and smile.

His smile was so sweet. It soothed any storm of emotions to a calm breeze.

Even though he mirrored my face, my eyes...his smile somehow imitated someone else's. Someone I knew far too well.

His father, Ivan.

Probably it was only my mind playing a prank on me again, perhaps it was only some sort of a flashback memory one would get when he came past an object of his childhood and at the heat of the moment he would recall everything...but there was no denying that toothless grin, the way his cheeks flushed a faint red on his fair skin...those were definitely inherited from Ivan.

The man I used to love...

How strange it was to imagine that; for the rest of my son's life, he would never know who Ivan is. Probably I would tell him about it one day, but how far would he believe me? How would he react...if I told him that Ivan had raped and abused me, that his father never loved me in the first place and that he had someone else? No matter his age or how much he had grown matured by that time I told him the truth, I knew he would not be happy for what had happened.

But we deserved happiness. And for that I would have to keep the secret buried inside. Call me whatever you want, but I don't have the heart to tell Hans the truth of everything. He wouldn't be happy, that's for sure...maybe he'll get upset to know he existed by accident, or maybe he would get mad at me for never trying to love his father.

I don't want to lose his little smile, no matter how much it reminded me of Ivan.

He deserved to be happy. We both do.

Sad thoughts aside, I finished our little bath session...though at that time Hans had started to let out a displeased noise when he couldn't play with the bubbles any longer. I wrapped him in his soft towel and drained the tub, then took him to the bed, ready for his diaper change. It didn't took me long to memorize the steps of changing a diaper on an infant, thus I had so far no problem with doing the chore.

I dressed Hans in his snapsuit. Then I dressed him up in a baby sweater and two layers of stretchy pants, plus a small ushanka to keep his head and ears heated enough and a pair of warmers for his legs...before we head out into the cold. I only wore a warm T-shirt inside a trenchcoat, a snowcap, a scarf, and a pair of snow boots. We both wore the mittens I had learnt to knit not too long after I gave birth. They were hideous, if I do say so myself...but for that moment, it would do.

Hans was wrapped in his thick and warm blanket before I placed him into his stroller and buckled him up. Of course, I never forgot his puppy toy...he wouldn't stay put if that soft toy isn't by his side. I packed a bag, filling it in with the formula milk I brewed, two of his diaper cloths, a packet of wet tissue, a bottle of powder and some baby oil, and a clean towel. I even brought a change of clothes and another bottle filled with warm water, just in case.

My doctor taught me all these, and like the diaper change and the milk feeding, I had become very accustomed to it. It was awkward...anything new and unusual for a man would always be so awkward.

I locked the front door as we were finally out. I pushed Hans's stroller carefully down the pavement as I decided where to head to first.

The sunset in the west painted a beautiful mixture of orange and violet in the almost cloudless sky. It was a beautiful sight...probably the same exact sight I had seen when I was still carrying the baby inside me; right from my bedroom window that day when Eva and her husband visited. And like that day, it never ceased to amaze me. Hans was still too young to understand that soothing moment one would feel to such a beauty...one day he will. One day.

The wheels of the baby's stroller rolled along as I pushed the carriage in front of me. We passed houses; some similar to mine, others a total different set of design. Gradually we started to see shops and restaurants, a few market stalls and even a street performer who had gradually attracted his crowd with his magic show. I would have loved to stay there for a while and watch at least one trick, but Hans was always restless when he gets surrounded by strangers, so I chose to deviate away and turned into another street.

I found the restaurant that I had long wanted to dine in. Ever since I was pregnant...hell, maybe even before I even have the thought that I would get myself pregnant...I had never been to this place since then. It sure had been a long time.

The restaurant served mostly of what I usually eat at home, but most of the cuisines are Russian. It was established by a Russian soldier that had resided here in Germany decades ago after the war. I never had the chance to know who that person was, but I had heard stories from his grandchildren that he stayed mainly because of a German woman, who eventually became his wife. It was a tensed moment for them both; I have no doubt about it.

But the man did it because he loved her. She was nearly sold to his colleagues by her own brother in exchange for a few cigarettes...he 'bought' her before that happened. It was a hard life for him, they said. She never trusted him; he never got to hold her hand. Yet he had to desert his position as an occupying soldier, desert his own country and change his identity. He ran off to the south with the woman, travelling all the way to here, in this small little town, where he married, ran his restaurant business and had a family, years after everything had started to build up well in Germany. The only thing he feared was the Soviets coming back to take his newfound happiness away, but it didn't happened until his death.

That was too much of a story, wasn't it?

I had to admit...sometimes it is saddening to know and witness the devastating events in front of me. The things that I myself cannot control. It is even more saddening when the only things that the world ever knew were the heartbreaks, the rage, the pain...

True. Russians and Germans don't always go together well. We had our bitter memories of each other, memories that cannot be simply forgotten and forgiven. But if one Russian can find happiness with one German, why not we...?

They deserved the happiness. We all do.

Despite everything, I am happy. As long as my son is with me, as long as he, too, is reflecting the happiness that I feel for having him with me in this world, then all is well.

I pushed up the brakes of Hans's stroller and sat at a small table inside the warm but somewhat empty premise, overlooking the streets covered in thick snow and people had started bustling about on such a fine evening, getting ready for the New Year. It was warm inside the place, especially with the Russian stove located not too far from my table, and the service was okay...well, probably better to me, considering that I am one of their regular customers. I didn't know exactly when I actually like Russian food. Not entirely relating to my love for Ivan, of course. Perhaps it was the time when I was still a small boy, where I followed a hoard of Germans to the Motherland, or maybe when I had stayed in Russia during the wars...probably after them as well.

Who knows? Memories are just that - memories.

But I do think Russian food is delicious despite being a little heavy for my taste. I really like it.

I ordered three course meals – the soup, the salad and the main course – plus, a small teapot of hot black tea…and as the waiter went off to the chef to prepare them, I dragged the stroller closer to my side and bent down to meet my little boy. He was looking at me with his cute round eyes while he bit on one mitten; trying to get to his knuckles inside it; while his other hand hugged his toy. I took off my mittens and unbuckled his restrainers. I picked him up from the stroller, of which he gladly responded with his sweet smile and baby babbles. I let him stand on my lap, while I showed him the beautiful snow landscaping underneath the colourful lights that decorated almost every building in the vicinity.

"Isn't it beautiful, Hans? This is your first New Year...are you excited?"

He only cooed, bending and straightening his legs eagerly. Obviously he didn't understand what I said...but seeing his sudden reaction never ceased to make me giggle. He placed his palms against the window pane, letting the toy he held all the way from the house to the restaurant; drop down onto the square table.

His blue eyes shone with amazement of seeing the bright Christmas lights, flickering on and off from one colour to another. Red, blue, yellow, white...the colours gave the snow a magical sort of glow now that the sky had already turned dark; the sun had gone off to wander its light to the other side of the Earth. He cooed again and started to prattle, as if he was starting a conversation with me. I only cooed back, saying words like 'they're pretty, aren't they?' and 'oh, see that, who's that walking?' repeatedly.

Looking at Hans's innocent face, glowing in the dim orange light of the place and the vibrant ones outside...I can never suppress the feeling of longing. Longing for the dreams I wanted to dream of ever since I was young, longing for my loved ones... Yes, loved ones. The mother I never knew, the father I barely talked to, my dead brother, my friends, Ivan...

Ivan, Ivan, Ivan... What memories were left of him did I remember still? How much of it had I discarded? It was months since the last time I saw him. The last time I saw him embracing his American lover…we exchanged looks, just for that brief moment, and I knew we shouldn't see each other again. Fair enough. He had his love, I had mine.

My little love, right here in my arms. Squealing and babbling in a language I don't speak.

The food arrived to my table, course by course. And in each course, I allowed Hans to taste some of his father's native foods.

The _shchi _was a bit sour and the baby was clearly displeased by the acidic taste; deeply frowning while he looked at me in disgust. I had to coo and cuddle him just so he wouldn't cry, and thank God he didn't after I gave him water to wash down that sourly taste on his tongue. The egg salad barely had a taste and Hans seemed to like it when I fed the bits of eggs into his small wanting mouth. I had started to teach him to eat solid food last week, starting with a mush of baby food and some yoghurt. It wasn't an easy feat to get him to chew, but it worked well. Hans is a fast learner.

Once the third and final course arrived to my table, I placed the little one into his stroller and placed the plush toy by his side. I didn't give him anything though, considering that every part of the meal was spicy. I ate my dinner, occasionally tickling my son and giggling at his adorable laughter. I heard other customers and the waiters giggling as well, possibly amused by my son's being the loudest in there, or possibly by my own embarrassing gestures with him.

I finished the meal, and by that time, Hans had started to cry.

Being his 'mother', I knew well enough that cry was a call for his milk. I scooped him out of the carriage again and held him; resting his head at the nook of my right elbow. I took out his milk bottle and fed him. Hans suckled quite hungrily on it.

A contented sigh escaped me. I continued to support the bottle with my hand, while we exchange words through our eyes. I made faces and Hans smiled. Sometimes I would look out the window observing the way the people's boots crunched on the snow, how their expression was as they fought the cold and walked on to a warmer place... The calm and peaceful moment was all I needed to get my worries away. Hans finished his milk not too long later, but still energetic somehow…so I continued to play with him.

As time passed by, the restaurant had started to attract crowds. Some of them stepped in for a hearty diner with their family; most were just in to kill the time before the clock strikes midnight. Like I mentioned, Hans is restless in crowded areas, so before the premise was filled to the brink, I paid for my meal and quickly went out.

Hans was buckled up in his baby carriage and I kept on walking, pushing the pram down the street again. The walk was rather aimless, since dinner was the only reason why we were out in public that evening. I wanted to go to the bookstore and browse the books in there, maybe buy some of them that could help me clear out the boredom of staying at home rather than going to work. I ended up browsing the video shop instead, renting a few old American movies where cowboys or space aliens are rather a common theme.

It was two hours before midnight and the street had started to look less empty. People of various races, probably different religions too, were out and about…some getting into bars and pubs to spend the rest of their evening there, some went to the theatre two blocks down, some went shopping for late night snacks…most though, were waiting for the New Year to kick in.

Hans cried at the noises he barely recognized; cars blazing their horns blocks away, loud murmurs of the people that passed by us, shouts and laughter of the pubs' customers calling out for a toast… I comforted him as best as I could, while I pushed the stroller away from the busy street and took a turn into a park. The park was filled with snow, though most of the ice had been defrosted from the pavement for the convenience of its visitors. At that time, the park was only filled with lovers and families, waiting for the firework display from the railings that separate the cobblestone pavement and the river bank. Soon it would be crowded for sure.

We were lucky to find an empty bench that overlooked the river from afar, even though the spot was rather secluded from the crowd of people. But the open space above us where bits of stars were not hidden from our view, gave a nice setting to the place. There were probably performances not far from where we were; music was playing faintly into our ears and soft cheers of people intersected with it.

I fished out Hans from his stroller after I pushed up its brakes, and wrapped him in his warm blanket as I hugged him gently. I did that as an attempt to make him a little calmer, and thank goodness, he didn't cry as bad as before. After a few minutes he started to babble again… and God, at that moment I wished he could mutter out a recognizable word, something that can really make me smile…or just to kill the time as we waited for the celebration to start.

I tried to talk to Hans, like the many times I had tried...saying simple words like, "Hello, Hans!" or "I love you" to him. He moved his mouth to imitate mine, but not really succeeding in imitating the sounds. He sure has a lot more to learn…

Yet, I continued to talk to him. As if he understood, as if he knew what I was saying. Had he developed enough to understand simple words, he would think that his mother is such a boring person. Sure enough…whenever I am alone with Hans, when I felt like sharing something with him, the only talking I did was about his father.

The man I used to love…

"You know…your daddy and I used to sit in one secluded place…outside in an abandoned farm or by the roadside…where no other people were to disturb us. We were just sitting and smoking…sometimes lying down and talk about how beautiful the dark starry sky was. No one disturbed us; no work matters came into our mind. We just talk and lay down and we slept until morning…nothing much happened…though I do remember scooting next to your father for warmth." I chuckled at that old memory and pointed at the stars. Hans looked up.

"See those Hans? They are stars. Stars…they lived up there and they never changed. They are what I used to call…the witnesses to my love confession."

I paused for a moment, contemplating whether it was worth to recall that silly moment again. But of course…even if I told Hans about it now, he would not understand.

"That one night…when Ivan and I were lying down on the dried hay, among the soft rings of the crickets of summer, under those same stars… We were waiting for sleep to kick in, asking each other stupid questions like what did we had for dinner, what was the name of this person and that person…but after a while your daddy slept first.

He looked so beautiful, Hans. He really did, still do… His cheeks were flushed from the work he had to do that day, the tiredness was noticeable on his face…but he still looked so beautiful. I knew by then, I fell in love with him more. God, I was so young, naïve maybe…but I really liked Ivan. And…under this same starry sky, I broke my first kiss by stealing one from his lips…and then told him that I loved him. '_Ich liebe dich,_ Ivan'; that was what I said…

He never heard it, apparently….I mean, he was already snoring by then! If anyone was there to hear it, I'd probably be embarrassed for the rest of my life!" I chuckled again, partially as an effort to suppress the sadness from resurfacing. Yes, it is sad whenever I recall the things that used to make me happy… Like, how I used to recall Gilbert trying his best to get me a present

"I never said those words again. Not directly to him, at least. That's why he didn't know…he didn't know that I loved him so much. I wasn't brave enough to tell him that, I guess…not brave to tell him about you, even."

Hans was still looking at the sky, making grabby hands to it, as if he could reach a handful of those 'shiny dusts' scattered up there. I smiled at his cute gesture, and pulled him closer into another hug, giving his chubby cheek one long kiss. It probably tickled him and he tried to move away while squealing in delight.

"But it doesn't matter, _ja_? I have you, _mein kleiner Held!_ I can say 'I love you' to you every day, wherever and whenever I want!" I tickled Hans again and under the dim lights of the lamp posts surrounding us, we laughed cheerily.

The laughter died down as instant as it came. By then Hans had started to babble, biting on his toy and looking around curiously at the shadows of people passing us by.

He was so young.

He didn't know. He wouldn't understand.

He didn't know how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. Even if we lived in our own loveless world and no one will be there to embrace us when we needed it the most. We loved each other, we deserved each other.

And we deserved happiness. We both do.

Time passed us by, from seconds to minutes, and minutes to hours. I sat quietly on the bench, enjoying Hans' warm presence on my lap and the fog of white that came out from our noses. The baby was still gnawing on his puppy toy, and looking at the object just kept on reminding me to see the dog, Hope, again. I wonder where it is now in such a cold winter night; had it have enough food? Did anyone clean it, maybe provide him a warm bed by the fireplace?

Yes, I was worried about the dog I haven't seen for about 6 months, since the last meeting I attended. God, I was always worried about animals. I may not look like a compassionate guy, but animals are worth loving, no matter what species, what sizes they are. And there I was; worrying about a dog that didn't belong to me, as much as I worry about Hans when he had his first fever.

I was planning to adopt a dog or maybe a puppy, once Hans had started walking. At least, he had a reason to run around and learn more with his pet. I wasn't sure what dog, though…perhaps a Beagle, or a Golden Retriever. If I could, I'd love to adopt a white German shepherd…just like Hope.

A screech slowly filled in my ears, dispersing the thoughts I had into faint smokes, and the boom that followed after totally woke me up. I glanced at the sky and saw showers of red and white raining down like a bloomed flower withering away.

The fireworks had started.

And all around me, even if the lighting was a little unforgiving, murmurs and chants of a New Year greetings were heard. More fireworks came into sight more 'ooh's and 'ah's were heard.

"Look, Hans! Look at those fireworks," I said, fascinated by the display myself. I didn't heard a babble or a squeal like I had hoped…and when I looked at Hans, he was already fast asleep, with his head resting on my shoulder.

Usually loud noises can wake him up easily, but I guess the warmth of the blanket was too comforting and he was probably tired after hours of sitting and being carried out in a cold weather. I snuggled him in my arms and wrap him firmer with his blanket. I placed the puppy plush by his side and let him dream under the colourful sky.

I lowered my head to Hans's ear, whispering in my deep voice; "_Ich liebe dich,_ Hans."

Just like that day, the starry sky again witnessed a love confession. But unlike the one previously made, this one was for a family member, for my son…and it just gave a whole new meaning to everything. The stars heard my voice; the brightly coloured sky beheld my revelation.

And our path to find happiness started then on.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

But how long was the path stretched out?

No one knew for sure. Not even me.

But fate knew. And that was how it played its game. Fair or not.

And fate's cruelness never left me alone.

It was two weeks before the end of May and by that time Hans had finally started to crawl. He loved to crawl almost anywhere…under the bed and into an open closet mostly. If I had no work to do at the moment, I would play with him, imitating his crawls and trying to chase him around. His laughter would fill in the entire room when I finally caught him and we both would laugh together until we couldn't do it anymore.

Hans was a great observer. He somehow knew what to touch and what not to touch, even if sometimes his curiosity peaked in. He didn't touch the electrical sockets (of which I had conveniently close once I knew he could move around) even if he would sit in front of one of them and stared at it, sometimes he even conversed with it in his baby language. At times, I caught him throwing his toys far away from himself and proceeded to crawl to retrieve them. Then he would clap his hands and squeal happily for the little triumph.

His curiosity was never limited. When I was sitting on the sofa, reading a book quietly, my little boy would crawl up to my feet and pulled on my trousers; trying to provoke me to sit with him or to make me show him the book. He would also be the one to be excited the most when the doorbell rang, crawling as fast as he could towards the door before I could reach the doorknob, as if he wanted to know who was behind it.

And that day was no different. We both were at the living room, watching cartoons like we always did, when the doorbell rang twice. My son giggled sunnily and continued to crawl from his playing mat towards the door. I chuckled at his antics and scoop him up into my arms before he could go any further and walked to the door.

I was expecting my private doctor and her husband at first, thinking they might stopped by had brought cookies or cupcakes along. I took a quick glance through the peep hole and let out a small 'oh'. It was the man who worked under my boss…call him a personal assistant, if you want. And without a doubt, he brought a box filled with files and folders of the work I am supposed to finish before the end of the month.

I opened the door and we exchanged a few greetings before letting him in. He knew well enough where to go and he headed straight to my study room. The two bodyguards that followed behind him stood outside at the porch when I closed the door. I followed after my boss's assistant, letting him lead the way. Hans just cooed and didn't seem to recognize the serious atmosphere that had just set in.

The man placed the box on my table, and then looked at me with an expressionless face. "Only one box this time. Think you can finish it before June?"

"Of course." I answered. Only one box…I was pretty sure I could finish it by the weekend...no need two weeks to finish them. "What are they about, anyway?"

"Oh, the usual…economics, a few trades here and there. Most of them would need a little correction, but you don't have to bother about those yet…

"And one thing…is Mr. Jones a friend of yours? Maybe an acquaintance…?"

I looked at him, my eyes wide opened. Mr. Jones…Alfred…how could I ever forget that name? But it sure had been a while since I ever heard any mentioning of him. "Yes, he's…we're in the same group."

"I see." The man looked away and nodded, before reaching in the coat of his grey suit. He took out an envelope and from my point of view I recognized how thick it was.

"_Herr _Ludwig, the reason the boss decided not to give you far too many work this month was because of this Jones person. He had been calling the office demanding to meet you. Of course, due to our oaths of keeping your whereabouts a secret as a privacy precaution, we couldn't tell him where you were. We told him if it was really urgent, he should have just called you personally... if he knows your number that is. Is he always this way, though?"

I nodded. Alfred is the type of person that never gave up easily. And as to seeing how aggressively determined he was to talk to me personally, I guess his anger on what had happened to him wasn't completely gone yet.

"Just yesterday he came to our office, and gave this to the secretary. He told us to give this to you…I thought perhaps he had been disturbing us so that he could give this to you in person…" He placed the envelope onto the table, beside the box. "We checked the contents and nothing harmful was found, just a stack of printed papers…but the boss had read it and he thought you might need some time- "

He trailed off and gave a nod; mostly to remind himself to stop saying anything else. He smiled at Hans and poked on the baby's chubby cheek, before bidding me goodbye. I swore I saw a sad look on his face when he smiled at Hans, but I chose to ignore it and escorted him out the door. I stood by the window and watched him drove off, wondering what he meant when he said I might need some time…

The afternoon passed on to evening, I had my dinner and my bath with the baby, and by eight, Hans had already fallen asleep after a full bottle of milk. I placed the baby into his cot and got ready for the work I had to do. I changed into a white tank-top and a pair of blue pajama's pants, and proceeded to the study room.

The sight of the envelope caught my eyes first. I closed the door behind me and sat down behind my desk, considering if I should read its contents or keep it after I had finished my work. Like Hans, I couldn't really contain my curiosity. I reached out for the envelope and opened it.

Once again.

Once again, my life was spiraling downhill.

Fate mischievously twisted the path I took with my son and now all I saw was confusion.

Anger. Sadness. Shock.

I briefly read through the papers, not believing the words bolted on them. When I read it for the third time, tears had started to pool inside my eyes. My mind was so muddled I could have gone crazy and screamed to God, asking him why. _Why_?

Why is fate playing the game so cruelly?

Why is it taking everything away from me? My chance to love by Ivan, the trust I had from my friends…

Why is it taking _my_ son away from me…?

The only one I had…

I placed the papers down on the table and buried my tearful face into the depths of my palms. I cried for hours, refusing to accept what was written on the papers.

The papers with a court seal on every headings. The papers signed by a lawyer I never knew, signed by two signatures next to the lawyer's - Alfred F. Jones…and Ivan Braginsky. The papers with a huge, bolded title…

**Custody of Hans Alexander Braginsky.**

Yes. Alfred and Ivan were filing for the custody of Hans. _My son_.

All things came crashing down.

I was suffocating but there wasn't even room for me to suffocate.

At that moment, I didn't even ask myself how they knew about Hans or how he was brought into the world…how they knew Ivan was Hans's father…where they had the guts to file for custody when they didn't even know anything about what I had to go through from the start till now. No, no, no…those were the least of my concern. They didn't even occurred to me at that very second.

All I thought about was Hans. And how I was about to loses him to people he never knew, never met…to people who demanded that they could take care of him better than I did.

I don't want to lose him. Oh, God, help me. I don't want to be alone again.

He was all I have in this world, the only reason I still breathe and live.

That same night, I took Hans out from his cot and placed him on my bed. He was sleeping so serenely that he didn't even stir when I moved him. The baby sighed when he sensed that I wasn't moving him anymore, and then I climbed on the other side of the bed and lay down beside him. Unlike the peaceful, angelic look of my baby, my face was stained with tears. Sad, hurtful tears.

I curled up next to Hans and observed him…his closed eyes, his already thick ash blonde hair, his small nose, his lips pursed as he fell into his own sweet dream. I continued to observe every inch of his face…as if I wanted to remember those features forever, as if I didn't want the image of my son disappear from my memories…

But I don't want to lose my baby. Not this way…

I promised to be with him till the end. No matter what, I will always be with him till the end.

Let the storm come and kill every pieces of my being, let the world hate me for who I was and who I am, let the darkness engulf me into emptiness and loneliness…

Yes, I deserved it. I deserved the pain, the sadness, everything. But not my son. Not Hans. Hans deserved nothing but happiness.

And happiness is all we could hope for.

.

.

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**A/N:** _This was supposed to be the second last chapter of this story, ending with a twist of events. But I decided to torture the characters a bit more, so I extended the story for a few more chapters._  
_Whatever it is, I hope you enjoy this one.  
__A few moments of Ludwig spending his time with little Hans… then I dropped the happy scene and feed you the usual angst. And from now on, the angst will once again start for poor, poor Ludwig and the others._

_An early apology for the custody trials that will come in the next chapter… I know nothing about laws and regulations on child custody cases. I only refer to what media I have access to for it…_ u v u


	9. Hope was all that we have left

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

.

June would be over in four days.

Each passing hour, every passing day, was an imminent torture for me.

The custody hearing was set on the first of July. Today was the day I met my lawyer to finalize everything…the legal papers, the witnesses, the evidences… I had never been in a custody case before, and I had never thought it would need evidences like a murder trial. Of course, the evidences were not murder weapons or corpses, but merely things that could be shown to the judge that I can be a good parent to Hans.

I believed I am a good parent to my baby. If carrying him for nine months and giving birth to him afterwards weren't good enough, then I hope the past ten months of taking care of him could win me in this battle.

Hope was all I had left…and hoping for the best was the only thing I did.

The morning after I read the letter that Alfred sent to me, before I made breakfast and before Hans woke up, I quickly went back to my study. Even though I was rather sleepless that night and when I woke up, my head felt like nails had been hammered into it, I still braved myself to go back to that letter. The box filled with the work I was supposed to start by then was left untouched last night, and I wasn't planning to work on it that morning.

I took the letter and read it again, just to make sure I wasn't being too paranoid. But the words still look the same, nothing changed…and from then I knew this wasn't a dream.

I reached for the cell phone on one of the paper trays on the desk, the same cell phone that Francis used to call the paramedics after that staircase incident with Alfred, and stared at the screen. I had to pause for a moment, finding composure, and lessen the shakiness in my fingers and the heavy feeling inside my chest…before I unlocked it and searched for Alfred's private number. I clicked the dial button and placed the phone at my ear. I waited…and waited…the phone was ringing in a loud ringtone that sounded like a mix of rap and pop music; something typical of Alfred to do…but I didn't take the phone away from my ear despite the annoying ringtone.

I waited but he didn't pick it up. Was it too early? Probably…the cuckoo clock pasted on the wall opposite this desk had its short hand a bit after six, the long one at the number five. In Alfred's place, it must still be too early for him to wake up, or perhaps he was just getting ready to sleep…I wasn't really sure…

I gave the call another try. Then, another, and another. But Alfred still didn't answer the calls. I was getting even more nervous. To hell with time zones, I really had to talk to Alfred about this matter, urgently!

My finger clicked the red button after the fifth try. This was frustrating. It's either Alfred had gone to bed, or he was completely ignoring my calls…

There's only one number I could use then…and I'd be lucky if that person would pick up the call.

I searched the contact list once more and pressed on Ivan's number. I placed the phone to my ear, partially relieved that the ringtone was the normal 'beep-beep' that we all would get when we call someone. After a while, the phone was picked up but the indifferent greeting on the other end caught my tongue from responding with anything. I swallowed in the silence.

It wasn't Ivan who picked the phone up. It was Alfred.

He sounded like he had expected me to call Ivan's number, given the tone of his voice. Where was Ivan…?

"Ivan's asleep. What do you want, Ludwig?"

The American answered, as if he could read my thoughts at that very second. I pressed the cell phone closer to my ear, scheming inside my head on what appropriate words to say. "H-hallo, Alfred. I…I tried to call you, but you didn't picked up and-"

The silence on the other side was unnerving. I couldn't imagine what it was like on Alfred's side. Perhaps he was sitting in the shadows, with Ivan's cell phone in his hand…possibly in a dark empty room or in the dim kitchen, where Ivan wasn't around to hear him. To hear us.

My late brother, Gilbert used to say to me, that in the dark there would always be silence. I never really knew what he really meant…was it depression and sadness? Was it death? Or was that just how we both were feeling at that moment; talking to one another after such a long time with a similar heaviness in our chests…

"I was…I was wondering if…if you can tell me why you sent that court letter? It was a joke, wasn't it?" A stupid question. But that was all I could think of. And then, I chuckled. The atmosphere was just too heavy, and possibly I was trying to fight back tears and dread with the small laughter. Oh, merciful God, I hoped it was a joke.

"You finally got it? Well, that took a while to reach you." Alfred's emotionless voice only added to the fear inside me. All the cover-up and lies I was feeding myself on the court letter, thinking it was a mistake or if Alfred was giving me his usual pranks like how he did to the others countless of times…everything just crumbled along with my heart.

I gripped on the phone harder…any harder than that, I could have crushed it broken completely. "A-Alfred…Alfred, please… Please revoke it. I can't…I can't do this…I can't give Hans away…"

"…You know I won't do that. The baby is probably better living with us."

"But-"

"You think you can handle a kid alone, Ludwig? You think the kid can be happy with only one parent? Fuck, he probably won't even have a nice environment to live in when he grows up!"

Those words…though I knew all of them were untrue, but the way Alfred said it to me threateningly…for some reason, I could not hold myself from sobbing.

"Alfred…d-don't say that. I...I gave birth to him…I took care of him well. Please…please…H-Hans...Hans is all I have. He's all I have, Alfred…please…please don't do this…please…don't take him away from me…"

I cried. It hurt to even think of separating with Hans, my little one, the little hero that was always there to make me feel better. And I never wanted for that to happen…I promised to be with him till the end, and I don't want to break that promise.

Silence came in again and all I heard was soft breathing on the other end of the call. Did Alfred even listen to what I said? Or was he considering my pleas…and perhaps contemplating to cancel the custody case? I really hoped it was the latter. Alfred wasn't that bad of a person. I knew it was only appropriate to be furious at him for wanting my son out of the blue, for hurting me emotionally deeper than I thought he could...but what he had gone through, what we both had gone through…it wasn't fair.

"…Get a lawyer. I'm sure I had the date of the trial correct on the paper. See you in court, Ludwig."

And with that, our phone conversation was over.

Gone. My hope of not wanting to go through this custody battle was….gone.

I let the cell phone slipped off my hand and landed on the carpet. My knees went weak and I followed suit; giving up to gravity as I let myself kneel on the floor. I sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the cell phone which screen had now blacked off, in disbelief. In utter confusion.

I never wanted to have this fight. Hans didn't deserve to be the cause of it. By right, this sort of custody case shouldn't even start in the first place.

Hans and I deserved nothing of this. All we deserved is happiness. And we promised to be happy with each other till the end.

The first person to know about this custody case was my private doctor, Eva, and her husband, George. They were as shocked and sad as I was, and they promised to help me through it as best as they could. I called my psychiatrist next, and he told me he was willing to be a witness if needed be. Dr. Liam claimed that he had been in several custody cases before; as in showing evidences of a parent, psychologically and saying whether the parent is fit to take care of the child or not.

Though these are all the help I could get, considering that not one of my colleagues knew about Hans, I was genuinely grateful and somewhat confident that I could win this.

Fate may be unfair, it may be cruel. But if there's a chance to change the path, I could…and I would.

Wearing a black suit I had long since worn (of which felt a little tighter than I remembered); I waited for my lawyer in the waiting room of his office. The large room had nothing but a white screen rolled up to the ceiling; probably used for meetings or conferences; a large glass table and a few brown and green chairs tucked underneath it; and six individual grey sofas surrounding a wooden coffee table right next to the door. I was making myself comfortable…or at least I tried to...on one of the sofas, tapping my foot as I waited for my lawyer to come in. All the paper work were done by then, the only thing I needed now was the lawyer's advices on how to go about this hearing; what I should say and should not say during the proceedings...

The wait didn't bother me, oh no. I was more worried about going through this trial, and even more worried about what would become of Hans if I lost this case. Would he be alright living without me? Would I be alright living without him? It was impossible to imagine either situation.

A quarter of an hour had passed, and finally the lawyer I had talked through the phone all this time came in. I immediately stood up and shook hands with him. The lawyer representing me was a dark-skinned, stocky man named Paul Holstein, whose hand grip was as strong as Ivan's. He was wearing a black suit as well; he was bald and had a scar at the left side of his head.

"A bullet."

"E-excuse me?" I looked at him oddly as he spoke. We never really had a formal greeting as we shook hands and he was talking about-

"I noticed you were staring at my scar. A bullet did it. I worked in Italy ten years ago, defending a mafia boss. Said he killed a woman, but we won anyway. When I got out of court, the woman's husband shot me at point blank range. The gun recoiled hard enough to make the bullet miss the center of my head."

I only nodded. I knew how it was like to meet face-to-face with a gun, and the person holding a gun. I knew a gun would exert back too much force if handled with inexperienced hands. We both sat down opposite of each other, before I finally said; "That was a close call."

"Indeed." He gave out a deep, growl-like chuckle; as his hands rummaged through the papers in the file that he brought along. "Since then…never got myself involved in criminal cases…especially not in Italy."

A small smile made its way to my lips for a moment, before the seriousness of the business came in slowly as he spoke; "So…Mr. Beilschmidt. Based on the records from the social worker that visited your home…you seemed to be on the right track. We have strong points about your situation as well, based on the investigations carried out... Of course, I've talked to the judge about these evidences and the people you would call to the stand…we were given the green light to proceed, thankfully. Have you been in court before, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"_N-nein_. I mean, no. I used to attend criminal hearings as an audience…but…well, you can say I'm not familiar with legal matters and anything concerning them…let alone be a defendant in court." True. Anything legal that concerned me usually would be solved by other people…the closest I had ever gone through was hearings during my military days was just to stand at the back and listen.

"Well…I'll be representing you. The plaintiff is represented by the attorney of their choice. One by one, the persons involved in justifying the plaintiff or the defendant is eligible to be at the stand, giving points as to why and which side is a better guardian to…Hans. Yes. No provocations are allowed and no additional evidences can be put forward during trial. The final decision will be held by the judge, with the help of the law guardian."

"What is a law guardian? Is it...is it the woman that visited me two days ago to check on Hans...?"

"Yes, that's a law guardian. Since Hans is still a baby, barely a year old, the law guardian will represent him in court. That's why it is important for her to be in the trial so she could help the judge in favouring either us or them. Do you understand, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"Yes."

I hated going to court. It was a tedious process, from the start to the end. It's like going through the dilemma of following two totally different paths…and the one who decided where you should head to is not yourself, but a stranger. And in the end you have no chance of turning back…

For the whole day, I went through it with discussions with my lawyer, a few calls here and there…and attempts to keep myself calm.

I wanted to win this trial. I _have to_ win this trial.

I have to fight for Hans. Hans is my son, my little savior, my unsung hero...and I'm his mother.

And he's the only one I had.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

The courtroom was unlike the ones I usually see in a movie or in the famous legal dramas that had made their way from America to Germany. It was a rather small room, decorated a little bit more modern than the usual wooden-stapled walls that I used to be stepped in. The gallery area was only filled with three rows of benches, on each side. The room didn't even have a security guard inside to guard the doors, except the one behind the judge.

The gallery wasn't filled with anyone but a few people, of which on the defendant side was only filled by Dr. Eva and Dr. Liam. Dr. Eva's husband, George, took the job of looking after Hans while we were on trial, under the close supervision of a social worker. There wasn't anyone I recognized on Alfred's side, though…probably the men and women that filled in those benches were his and Ivan's servants and assistants.

I arrived in court along with my lawyer. We arrived earlier by thirty minutes before the judge entered the room. And for those fifteen minutes, I avoided myself from looking at the plaintiff's side…or more accurately, at Alfred.

Alfred came in ten minutes after with Ivan towed behind him, while his lawyer was already at his seat. They were holding hands, no doubt…but Alfred's face was rather; like his voice on the phone weeks ago; emotionless. As if there was no spirit in that shell of his, but rather a shadow that could engulf the entire planet if he had been triggered...

The atmosphere was so dense when he walked in. Every murmur settled down to whispers and was simply gone as he walked forward to his seat.

He was wearing a black suit with a red tie, while Ivan was in his usual long grey coat and pink scarf. Looking at Ivan's scarf reminded me of the ones I made for him years before...I wonder where he kept them now. Did he throw them away? Did he rip them and burnt them in his fireplace in one of those winter nights? There wasn't any doubt that Ivan would do that...after all, I was the obstacle in his life that he has to discard, to make way to his and Alfred's future together.

A future I don't belong in.

Yes, I could avoid Alfred. Ivan too. But I knew I couldn't help not thinking about the possible life I could have had...the life I used to dream of. With Ivan and Hans by my side, as one happy family...but that wasn't my future anymore, not even close to becoming a dream. Now my own image was torn apart from that picture and Alfred was taking that empty space all by himself.

They are taking away Hans from me.

The trial wasn't a fair move on my part. Hell, there shouldn't be a custody battle in the first place! Hans is my son, I am his only mother. Shouldn't that be enough to prove that I am and only for my baby?

My little hero...

I snapped back into reality when my lawyer stood up, along with the others in the room. Out of reflex, I did too, without knowing why until I saw the judge coming in. The judge was a Caucasian man, his appearance as old as Father Christmas though I doubted that his age was anywhere close to that. He was wearing a red robe and he stood for a while...eyeing the plaintiff and the defendant, and the handful of audiences that attended the trial. He gave a nod and sat down on his grand chair, and we all followed suit.

The room was quiet, as the judge wore his reading glasses and read the papers that had been presented on his table; no doubt a petition from the plaintiff about how and why they could be better parents than I. In that few tensed minutes, I took my chance to glance at the plaintiff's side again. But this time, I looked at Ivan instead. He was sitting at the front-most row of the gallery; his eyes stared casually at the judge, waiting like any other in the room.

But his violet eyes...those beautiful eyes I used to love looking at; the same ones that pierced through me with anger and lust in that October night...they reflected something else.

That something wasn't happiness, not even close to confidence and determination like how I saw in the eyes of Alfred's lawyer. Or the silent hate in Alfred's blue ones. For some reason, the only emotion I saw in Ivan's eyes was guilt. Sadness and self-loathing were floating and dancing along it as well.

Was he feeling sorry for his lover, of how things had escalated out of proportion from the day of Alfred's accident? From when Alfred had fell down the stairs and lost their child and their chance to have another one? Was he feeling sorry for me, for having to go through something he knew I shouldn't have gone through in the first place? For having to take Alfred's wrath first-hand and probably lost my chance to win?

Or...was he feeling sorry for himself...the pressure of the guilt from what he did to me? For that painful night when he forced me down, when he forced me to submit to him, the night when he made me feel loveless and heartbroken?

When he said the wrong name...

It couldn't have been the latter. Ivan didn't know what he did to me. He didn't know how he raped and tortured me, and ended up having me pregnant. He didn't know how he became Hans's father.

...or maybe he did...?

"We may proceed with the trial...starting from the plaintiff." The judge started to speak, in a voice deeper than mine, as he glanced over to Alfred's attorney. He stood up and went to the middle of the room.

"Your Honour, Mr. Alfred Jones had filed a petition to stand trial for the custody of an infant, a baby boy named Hans Alexander Braginsky, as appointed in his birth certificate. Currently, the child is in the hands of the defendant, Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt, who acts as the child's...parent. According to Mr. Beilschmidt's attorney, he refused the prayer to hand the child under Mr. Jones' custody.

"On the paper that you have read, Your Honour, is a list. A list of accounts on why he and his current partner, also the alleged father of the child, Mr. Ivan Braginsky, are better parents to the baby."

I bit my lower lip to the awful feeling in my chest. How could they be better parents when they weren't there to witness how hard it was for me to raise Hans from scratch? They never knew...they never understood the emotions I have to go through...

Oh, God. Help me.

"Your Honour, I would like to call Alfred Jones to the stand."

The judge nodded and Alfred stood up as he saw it, and headed to the stand. I knew he gave me a spiteful look when he passed me by, but I chose to ignore it. My focus was strong in winning this trial. I can't afford to lose my son to someone like him.

Alfred took his oath and sat down, and his lawyer came up in front of him, doing his job.

"Mr. Jones, could you state to the court...the events that led to your decision to inquire the custody of Hans Braginsky?"

"Yes." Alfred looked at me again, but he quickly averted his eyes to Ivan and then back to his attorney. "Ivan and I...we had been together for a very long time. Last year, we expected a baby together, much to our pleasant surprise. We made plans ahead of us; a good home to welcome a new family, a baby shower...a wedding... A baby was on the way; we never actually expected anything to go wrong.

"It was April 30th...the day I met Ludwig in the office building. I was there to drop in a few things...I accidentally bumped into Ludwig as I was heading towards the stairs, and the box he was carrying fell off his hands and...and the contents rolled out. I took the courtesy to help him pick the items...and as I stood up...he...he pushed me down the staircase. I lost my child in the event...as well as the ability to bear any children in the future."

At that point, I had the strongest urge to lunge at Alfred. He was lying. I didn't push him down that staircase! He tripped and I couldn't save him! It was not my fault, it wasn't his either. But the need to punch in some sense into him was so great that the anger displayed itself on my face. Luckily, Mr. Holstein noticed it and quickly placed a firm hand on my thigh to bring me back and stay focus. I did, and I was able to suppress the fury somewhat.

Alfred continued; "I didn't want to believe it at first...but seeing as to why he didn't try to help me when I fell, and how he had been avoiding me...I can only say that Ludwig was envious of my relationship with Ivan."

"And what makes you say that, Mr. Jones?"

"...Ludwig seems to have this...obsessive habit of giving Ivan scarves for his birthday. Not that I mind, but making the same thing for years, and only to him? Not to mention how I noticed the way he acted when Ivan spoke to him, interacted with him... At first, Ivan and I only laughed about the matter, thinking it was hilarious...but after losing our one and only child, I knew something was wrong. It wasn't just a schoolgirl crush he had on Ivan...it was more than that.

"I noticed that he was carrying the child in him. I confronted Ivan, if he knew anything about it. He said no, but I knew he didn't want to tell me about it...about how they accidentally had an intercourse. I knew it will humiliate him, humiliate me...and I also knew, that Ludwig had forced him into doing it. His obsession also explained why he pushed me down those stairs. He was pregnant with Ivan's child, and because of his obsession, he didn't want Ivan to pay attention towards me...and our deceased baby. He wanted Ivan all by himself."

The lies...

Although half of what he said was true - the jealousy, the obsessive behavior to wanting Ivan to love me - the other half was nothing but lies. The lies were sharp, like the edge of a sword, penetrating to my senses and making myself confused whether they were how people see me as, or just merely fabricated stories to make me lose control.

"Seeing as how ill Ludwig was in this matter, we...Ivan and I...decided to gain full custody of the child. Before his obsession gets the better of him, it is only necessary to make sure that he wouldn't harm the baby in the future."

"And you feel you can be a good parent to the child?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Ivan and I were ready to have children. Now that I couldn't provide him that privilege, we can at least continue being the good parents we want to be with Hans. If it helps, the area we live in is very safe. We can provide every basic need - food, shelter, education, healthcare... We always think for the best of the child."

"Thank you. That'll be all, Your Honour."

The judge looked at my lawyer, just as Alfred's stepped aside. Mr. Holstein acknowledged the gesture and stood up, confronting Alfred in front of that tiny witness box next to the judge. I felt a tiny spark of hope as I saw them facing each other. I wanted my lawyer to rebut everything Alfred had said, all the lies he told...

"Mr. Jones. Seeming that, in the way you mentioned it, the situation of you losing your child was a criminal offense. Yet, you didn't report it to the police or confront Mr. Beilschmidt about this. Is that correct?"

"...yes. But there's a reason-"

"Do you have any evidence...a video, a note perhaps...that made you accuse my client making an offense against you?"

"...well, there might be a...a closed-circuit camera somewhere-"

"Do you, or do you not have it, Mr. Jones?"

"...no."

"Then, why are you accusing Mr. Beilschmidt for your accident if you have no evidence to prove that he did it?"

"Objection! The defendant is leading and asking irrelevant questions to Mr. Jones." Alfred's lawyer spoke up. Although I didn't react when the judge said "Sustained", I knew deep inside a small portion of that hope shattered. My lawyer took a few minutes to compose himself, before asking Alfred another question. "Mr. Jones, do you remember the date...May 31st?"

"Yes. That's the date when we...my colleagues and I...usually have a meeting...for work, most of the time..."

"Do you remember the events on May 31st, last year?"

"...yes."

"Mr. Jones, my client noted to me that, on that exact date, during lunch time, you confronted him and insulted him with the word...may I quote?" He took out a small piece of paper, the one I used to see him use when he was questioning me for any information that can be used against the plaintiff. Oh, God...I never wanted to hear that word again...

"You confronted my client, insulted him with many hurtful words without giving him the chance to explain himself, and you called him, 'Whore', loudly as if emphasizing it. Is that correct?"

"...yes. I don't have to deny that one. He is indeed a fucking whore, thinking he could fuck Ivan-"

"Mr. Alfred Jones. Please restrain yourself from using vulgar words in my court, or I will remove you from court and suspend this case." The judge intervened and told my lawyer to proceed. "Thank you, Your Honour. Now, Mr. Jones... on the same date, as you insulted Mr. Beilschmidt, did you assault him physically as well?"

"...yes."

"You grabbed my client by the collar and threatened him with words, and attempted to punch him. Is that correct?"

"...yes. I was so angry at him at that time...I just acted the way my emotions tell me to."

"Anger. Of course. And you meant to punch my client in the stomach, when he was still carrying the child. Is that correct?"

"...I...! I didn't-! I mean, I was furious enough to want to punch him, but I didn't-"

"You intended to punch Mr. Beilschmidt in the stomach when he was carrying the child. Is that correct?"

"I told you! I was acting out of anger and-"

I heard Mr. Holstein's voice rising up once again, and Alfred's face was red in embarrassment, as the question was repeated again and Alfred started to state yet another excuse. The judge had enough and he slammed his gavel down a couple of times and repeating the word "Order", and addressing Alfred in a rather impatient tone; "Mr. Jones! I don't tolerate stubbornness. Answer the defendant's question."

"...yes. Yes, I was aiming my fist at...at that..." Alfred muttered, not looking at anyone like he did the first time he stepped into court. Somehow his defense had crumbled slightly, and all I saw now was not pride and confidence, but guilt and defeat. Still, it was too early to say that I had won this fight.

"Your Honour, if Mr. Alfred Jones had the intention to hurt a child while the child is still in the womb out of anger, who can tell that he won't do the same to Hans Braginsky in one of his anger fits, once the kid? ...that would be all."

Again, the defeated look kept itself on Alfred's face. He stepped down, and Ivan went up next. Alfred's lawyer called him and I noticed how hesitant he was to this. He stood up anyway, and went to repeat the same oath that Alfred did before, and sat in the stand...

And then, he looked at me.

Those beautiful violet eyes I used to love looking at...

I found myself staring at Ivan for a brief moment; mirroring his anxiousness and his guilt. But that quickly went away as I avoided my eyes on him, and as his lawyer began to speak.

"Mr. Braginsky, do you recall the day you had an intercourse with Mr. Beilschmidt; as claimed by Mr. Jones? The day the child was created, so to speak?"

"...yes."

"Can you elaborate the events that led to that moment, Mr. Braginsky?"

There was a long pause afterwards, and I swore I felt that he was looking at me. Again, his lawyer asked the same question, and only then I heard his voice saying; "It was November...no, end of October, yes... there was a party in one of our colleagues' home, to celebrate his birthday. It was very late, I was intoxicated. I went to one of the empty rooms in the house to sleep the drunkenness off. Then...I realized that I wasn't alone. Ludwig was with me.

"The next thing I knew...we...we had a sexual intercourse on the bed...on the floor too. I remembered being the penetrator...and Ludwig was the receiver. I passed out afterwards, and when I woke up, I was alone, naked on the floor."

"Did you consent to the intercourse, Mr. Braginsky?"

"...no, I don't."

"And why is that?"

"...I was drunk and no one was there when I entered the room. But somehow Ludwig knew, and he proceeded to do this with me, even though he has the choice not to...considering that he knows about my relationship with Alfred.

He probably...loves me too much, that he couldn't stop himself from committing the act."

"And after the...incident... did Mr. Beilschmidt confronted you about the child?"

"Yes, he did. He met me once, and although he never said it, after a while I understood his intentions then."

"So you know the child existed?"

"Yes. But I found it out myself."

"What you are saying now, Mr. Braginsky..." His lawyer took a quick glance at me, and God how I hated his wolf-like eyes and the way his flabby cheeks lifted up with that annoying smirk... "...is that, Mr. Beilschmidt had only met you once to tell you about the baby, but he didn't have the courage to. After that, he didn't take the effort to see you again and kept the child a secret. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And what does that impression mean to you?"

"...Ludwig...he didn't want the child. H-he knew that I was already with Alfred...but he didn't abort the baby, let alone tell me about it. It's...it's only obvious that he didn't want Hans, but he had no choice but to have him. If he really didn't want it that bad, he should...I mean, it's better if I have Hans instead. As the child's father, I can raise him. We can raise him in a better environment."

Bullshit.

What do you know about me? What do you ever know about me?

I remembered your birthday ever since I met you. I took you to the sick bay when you didn't feel well. I baked cookies and cakes because I know you love them. I knitted scarves for you. I convinced our colleagues to bring you along in everything we did many, many times. I listened to all your problems and tried to solve it behind your back. I took your hand and led you to the bed when you were drunk. I let you beat me up and rape me because I love you too much. I kept the baby I wasn't supposed to have because I want the child to love you as much as I did.

But what the fuck do you know about me? What do you know about me, Ivan? Did you remember my birthday? Did you bring me to the sick bay and listen to all my problems? Did you notice the kiss I stole from you when you slept under that starry sky? Did you feel the pain I felt when you beat me up and rape me? Did you ever think of holding my hand when I gave birth to Hans?

Bullshit. All you know is bullshit.

For a moment, I felt a tight squeeze on my arm. The pressure was enough to make my mind click and focus back on the trial. It was my attorney...and he woke me up from being too emotional, too angry at Ivan. I swallowed and took in a deep breath; trying my best to stay focus.

He smiled at how my face had changed back to normal, and stood up to confront Ivan with his questions. Questions I didn't want to hear.

"Mr. Braginsky. You mentioned that, you were drunk when you entered one of the empty guest rooms. And miraculously my client was in there as well. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it odd...? You were drunk and yet you could get into the room by yourself, and even recognize that the person who was in the room with you...was Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt. Did my client bring you into the room, Mr. Braginsky?"

"Objection! The question is calling for a speculation." Alfred's lawyer said out loud. I felt a few seconds of relief with it...I never wanted to listen to those darkest hours of my life, being told in front of everyone. I never wanted it to be brought back to the present. But the judge only stated "Overruled", and signaled my lawyer to proceed; seemingly interested in this part of the drama.

But not me. I didn't want it to proceed. I didn't want to hear any more than this.

"Did Mr. Beilschmidt help you into the room when you were drunk?"

"...yes...m-maybe. I don't know! I was drunk! How should I know if he was already with me when I entered that room?"

"Did you lock the door to the room and forced Mr. Beilschmidt to submission by beating him up?"

"What- t-this is preposterous! Of course not! I didn't start it!"

"Did you lie down on the bed and force Mr. Beilschmidt to have an intercourse with you?"

"No! I-I didn't...he was the one lying down and I was holding his wrists-"

The guilt. I saw the guilt in his eyes again. Somehow the words he spurted out by accident, the words that made my lawyer smirk triumphantly, were exactly what he did to me that night. Somehow he knew what really happened that night...he knew that he had raped me.

Oh, dear God. Help me, please.

He knew.

"According to my client, you had assaulted him physically and had intercourse with him against his will while you were intoxicated. You left him injured rather badly; a broken nose and a dislocated arm...you punched him several times and caused him an anal trauma. Your Honour, one of Mr. Beilschmidt's witnesses is his private doctor. She can testify this later.

"Now...tell me, Mr. Braginsky. Did you remember how you ended up in the room with my client?"

"...yes...he brought me in. I was...I was drunk...I must have thought it was...it was Alfred..."

"You thought it was your partner and you proceeded to rape him. In which, resulted in my client having the child. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And you still stand by your words that you can take good care of the child, even though you had abused his mother, physically and mentally, and made him have the child without taking any considerations about what he must go through?"

"...y-yes."

"That would be all, Your Honour." My lawyer stepped away, leaving Ivan looking even guiltier than he already did. I noticed how hard he was trying to look at me, how hard he was trying to say sorry with his beautiful violet eyes...but the only look I could give him was hatred.

God, the man I used to love had become the man I hated the most at that moment.

He knew. He knew what happened that night. He knew he had raped me and made me pregnant. And yet he didn't come up to me and apologize. He didn't even ask me how was I doing, how my pregnancy was treating me, how I had to cope with all the stress and mood swings...he didn't even offer his hand for me to hold when I gave birth to little Hans.

And he had the guts to take my son away from me?

Oh, dear God. Help me. I hated him so much.

"Mr. Braginsky. Your confession on raping and abusing Mr. Beilschmidt could have been used against you and I can charge you for sexual harassment and severe physical assault. However, given that Mr. Beilschmidt didn't report the incident to the police and open a case with the criminal court, your confession will thus remain in this court and in this court only." The judge spoke to Ivan before he stepped down, with a serious expression stapled on his face. "You should be very thankful to Mr. Beilschmidt for not humiliating you in any way."

The court room fell silent. Slowly I could feel the strong barricade that the plaintiff's side had built up, starting to crumble bit by bit. For a while, I felt somewhat victorious...at the same time, I felt shame for having to bring out everything from that incident.

True, I didn't want to remember it. But fate had its own plans for me and now I was forced to listen to every single detail that had happened to me; from the time I brought Ivan into the room, to the time I held Hans in my arms.

Fate knows no mercy. And it kept on luring me to play its game.

Dr. Eva came up next. She helped to testify what I had suffered from that night - a broken nose, two disconnected molars, two broken ribs, a dislocated arm, anal trauma, cuts and bruises caused by fists and other blunt objects, mild to profuse bleeding from the orifices in between my legs...and alleged pregnancy.

I cringed to every detail of my injury that I never had actually asked my doctor how severe it was. I only knew I went through surgeries to treat on the anal trauma, but I didn't realized the doctors had fish out the bone fragments from my chest, fix my broken nose and teeth, and correct my dislocated arm again... I knew I was bruised, but how severe it was never came into mind.

And now when everything was told in front of me, I felt the hate for Ivan even more. God, I really did hate him so much. His apologies would never, ever amount to what I had to go through that night.

My private doctor continued to give reasons why Hans is better with me; giving points on my parenting skills and what I have done to make sure Hans lives a happy life. All seemed to be well at first, until Alfred's lawyer questioned her credibility, and why she didn't report the case if it was so severe. He even asked her why Ivan wasn't confronted during the time I gave birth to the baby.

It took a while as the plaintiff's lawyer continued to bombard her with questions, and she continued to deny all of his accusations. Although that particular session was rather weighting on my side, I couldn't help but felt a little torn when Alfred's lawyer came up with the point that I was delusional, and questioned why I didn't abort the baby when I knew it was a product of rape.

It hurt to know it then. It hurt to listen to it now.

My psychiatrist, Dr. Liam, was my second witness. He explained to everyone in the court of the severity of my trauma, and how much I had cope with it. He testified that I was improving well, and had been following his therapy closely and taking my medications as prescribed, thus made me eligible enough to take care of Hans, despite what had happened.

Of course, fate wouldn't let me be. It kept refuting my happiness, and all I could do was to scream inside my head for it to let go off me. And let me be with my son.

All I hoped for was to be with Hans, my little hero...and hope was what I had left.

Alfred's attorney cross-examined Dr. Liam, using my suffering and its effects on my sanity as his main point. The man insisted that I wasn't sane enough to take care of the child, giving evidences from the nature of my work and the aftermath of the rape, and that I might hurt the baby in the long run. Dr. Liam couldn't rebut him, and it ended with the old man mouthing "Sorry" to me.

I didn't mind. He did what he could.

However, all the things that they conversed left me feeling sick. All of the sudden, every detail of that October night started to recall itself in my head. My hands were sweating and breathing started to feel heavy. It took me a while to compose myself and tell my lawyer if we could adjourn the trial to another date, as I didn't have the strength to even go up front and talk. He understood, and proposed my request to the judge. The trial would be continued in the next two days.

I had a quick talk with Mr. Holstein about what things I need to improve, what things I should discard. In the next trial session, it would only be me who would be in the witness box...and if Alfred had another witness, it would be the two of us; finalizing everything and determine who would win Hans' custody.

My lawyer left first, along with Eva and her uncle. I took my time in the bathroom, trying to feel confident on my own, smiling in front of the mirror and thinking of my son. Everything would be well. I would win this trial and live on together with Hans for the rest of my life.

That was all what I hoped for. That was all what I wanted.

.

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It was late in the afternoon when I headed to the basement of the courthouse, unlocking my car from the distance as I walked nearer to it. The trial had been postponed in another two days as agreed, and two days would be more than enough for me to keep myself ready to win this case. I have to win it, for my son's sake.

Oh, God knows how much I missed my little boy even then. Imagine losing him for eternity! Of course, I didn't think that, if by chance Ivan and Alfred would win this trial, they wouldn't allow me to see Hans... But to see Hans with them, itself is a torture. And Hans is so young...he wouldn't even know or remember who I am if I truly lost him now...

Hans...my little hero. I could feel a smile making its way onto my lips as I opened the car door, wanting nothing more than to go home to my baby and hug him, hearing his cute laughter just as I call his name and-

"Ludwig!"

...I recognized that voice. In spite of the echo and the sound of engines rumbling and tires rolling from other floors of the basement, I recognized that voice so well.

The same voice that usually made me swoon inside, the same voice that I heard in the meetings, in the parties, the same voice that shouted at me after my body was violated, the same voice that called the wrong name...

"Ludwig...! Please...I-I need to talk to you!"

I didn't want to look back, didn't want to look at that man. I didn't want to look at Ivan. Not now.

I knew...if I did look at the owner of that voice, only fear and hate would fill in my head. The fear of being touched by him, in this lonely part of the parking lot, and repeat that darkest moments of my life once again...the hatred of knowing the fact that he knew he had raped me and yet he didn't apologize all this time...they would eventually mix up and I could be hurt even more. Or worse, I could go crazy.

"I don't want to talk to you, Ivan." I mumbled, as I opened the car door wider, ready to get in. The anger boiled inside me, and at any time I could explode. But I heard Ivan's footsteps echoing faster towards me, and within seconds I found my left arm locked in a tight grip of Ivan's strong hand.

"Ludwig...Ludwig, please..."

"Don't touch me! Get your hands off me!" I shouted, and out of reflex, I shoved him away. But he was indeed stronger than me. He always was...and I felt his grip on my arm tightening.

"What do you want, Ivan? I s-swear to God...if...if you think you c-could shut me up in this trial, I-I won't! Not for the whole world!" I shouted again, though this time I sensed that my voice was quivering slightly. Oh, God...if only I wasn't alone with him at that moment. There were no one at this floor, only a few cars were parked and they were so far away from me...and now mine was open ajar; ready to make room in case Ivan decided to repeat his offense again.

"Shhh-! Calm down, please...I really...I really came here to talk...just a few minutes, I promised."

I stared at Ivan silently for a minute; breathing hard and still struggling slowly against the painful grasp of his. He probably saw me winced and carefully he let go of my arm, but not without averting his eyes away from mine, as if he was assuring me that he won't do anything to me as long as I won't scream or run away. After a moment of mutual understanding, Ivan spoke again.

"Ludwig...I know you don't want to listen to what I say, but please...please hear me now...at least. I...I'm sorry...for having to say those things in court. Alfred's lawyer was a tough one to handle, and he forced every information out of me. He even assigned me to some...hypnosis-therapy thing so he could get some of my memory out, anything to be used against you."

"...so you just had your memory back...? Oh. Well, congratulations, Ivan. You remembered everything now, don't you? The rape, the abuse...our baby... G-good for you, Ivan. Good for you."

"Ludwig. I...I...T-the hypnosis wasn't the one that made me remembered those... I...I already knew what I did to you...weeks after that event... It came in rather hazy, but after a while, I realized what I had done and...Oh, God...I didn't know how to apologize to you..."

I had never felt as furious as I was at that moment. I could only clench my teeth and look at Ivan in pure hate.

This man. The man I used to love. He had the guts to come in front of me, almost two years after the rape, nearly a year after I gave birth to his son...for all the things he contributed to my suffering; he had the guts to only say sorry?

Bastard. Fucking bastard.

"I'm really sorry, Ludwig...I...I never confronted you about that matter before...not because I was ignorant or anything...I was...I was ashamed. I was ashamed of myself and...and I felt very guilty to you...to Alfred. I was scared of what the others would think of me if they knew...

"I tried to...I tried to make you feel safe around me... I tried to talk to you more... I...I want you to feel okay...I just...I know an apology would be better but I just...I just couldn't bring myself to say it. When I saw you months later, I realized how...how different you look... You were pregnant and...it just made me feel more guilty.

"I couldn't stand it anymore and after Alfred had a miscarriage, I...I told Alfred about it, about what I did to you. He went berserk...even until now he was still angry at me for having to do anything with you..."

Lies. All lies. That was all he knew. Lies.

"Ludwig, please forgive me. For everything I did until it came up to this...I'm sorry."

Fucking lying bastard.

"...I...I suffered a lot, Ivan. That rape, those injuries...they're just a small fracture of everything I had to go through. Don't you know how hard it was to carry a baby for nine months, how painful it was to give birth to Hans? Don't you know how much it hurts to know that you loved someone else...when I loved you more than anything, when I loved you for years and years in secret, and now I'm willing to have your child?

"All...all you think of is Alfred. Alfred, Alfred...everything is Alfred. Even when you...violated me, you called Alfred's name. You were so happy when Alfred announced his pregnancy, whereas you knew I was carrying your child and I wasn't treated the same way. _Ja! Ja_, I'm jealous! Because it wasn't fair. You ruined my life far too many times, Ivan...far too many times...and in the end, I never get your love.

"And now here we are...fighting for our child, when you know I had the most right to take care of him. I have to win this trial, Ivan. I hope I will...because Hans is all I have left."

Tears were threatening to get out from the corner of my eyes, but my anger suppressed it somehow. I held my breath as I said each and every word clearly, without having the shakiness in my knees taking over my voice. I had to let everything out, and now, without Alfred or anyone else around to stop us from holding a conversation, I did.

Ivan listened to me quietly, his eyes becoming more mortified by the minute. Probably my little confession of loving him was proven by then, and he didn't know what to say. I never expected him to, anyway. Not when I had the trial in my mind, and the determination to win it. For Hans' sake.

"...G-goodbye, Ivan. I have to go...Hans is waiting for me." I slowly retreated back into the driver's seat of my car and slammed the door shut. I turned the engine on and wore my seatbelt, getting comfortable enough before I could drive home.

Ivan was still standing beside my door, looking at me with worried eyes. I contemplated whether I should roll down the window, and I finally did. I looked at Ivan for a while, muttering; "...I'll see you in two days, I guess...I'll be testifying and...and if Alfred had another witness to testify...then it'll be over."

"...Alfred won't have any more witnesses."

"Huh?"

"...you had a good start in this case. After your testimonial in the next hearing, I'm sure you'll win, Ludwig. I'm sure you'll be with Hans, no matter what."

Ivan smiled. The smile that never ceased to be amazing in my eyes. I couldn't help it and smiled a bit to him as well.

"I hope so, Ivan. I hope so."

Because hope was all that we had left.

I drove home shortly after, smiling confidently all the way to Eva's home to pick up Hans. Maybe if I wasn't too tired, we could go down to that Russian restaurant once more, and spend the evening at the park, watching starry skies and remake our underneath them.

.

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**A/N:** _So...finally! Hurray for new chapter. Sorry for the very long wait. I had to do some research on child custody trials and other stuff about laws and such before I can write this chapter. I probably had rewrite the particular court scene for the tenth time, and I cut a lot of details just to make it fit one chapter.  
_

_Ludwig finally interacted with Ivan for a longer time. Not much angst in this one, but the next one...hehe, can't promise._


	10. Fate shouldn't be so cruel

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It was the fourth of July.

No wonder the streets seemed a little livelier than usual. The pubs were filled with Americans who lived here, or came here for whatever reason - military, work, study, or maybe they happened to be touring in this part of town. They sang their songs, chatting and joking among themselves, just like how I would do if I was in the mood for Oktoberfest.

It was also Alfred's birthday that day. I had a feeling he was somewhere with Ivan and their friends, celebrating it with happy smiles on their faces. Celebrating and washing their worries away.

I parked my car in front of my small house. I used to live in a mansion in the Capital with my brother, but after he passed away, I decided to stay in a smaller accommodation...easier to maintain and clean, so to speak. Besides, the mansion was his. I didn't really want to inherit anything from the things he gained with his own sweat and blood, and decided to give it up for the government's use.

But somehow my house felt too large for me at that moment. It made me feel rather lonely.

My house was almost dark; the only windows that showed light were from the porch, the kitchen and living room. I went in and met with the babysitter first, paying her and thanking her for taking care of Hans for the day. She was a young brunette student who had her hair tied in a ponytail and she was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. She had some dental work done on her teeth, and despite this nerdy look, I was sure she could be a beautiful woman day.

I asked her if she needed anything to eat, because I would use some cooking to feel in a better mood. She declined though, telling me that she needed to go back to her place and study. But she was an American after all...and I have no doubts she would join her friends or family somewhere to celebrate this special day.

For a German, the fourth of July means nothing more than another normal day. I didn't have many holidays to begin with, but given the nature of my work, I could accommodate a lot of time for my own leisure. And I was sure after this day...I would have more time to spend on my own.

I dismissed the idea of cooking and headed to my bedroom instead. Hans was in his cradle, babbling in his own language, biting and drooling over his dog plush. I hovered over him and he recognized me immediately, cooing happily. Hans turned himself around and crawled closer to me, attempting to stand on his feet and welcome me home with a grin that showed his four front teeth sprouting from his gums.

Hans just learnt how to crawl about two months ago. He was a fast learner...after a few days of practice, he could finally crawl without much a problem, except that it gave me a rather hard time to catch up with him once he was on the floor. Now that he was nearly twelve months old, he had developed yet another skill - standing.

And right then, in his cot, using one of its sides as a support, he slowly stood up and reached up to me. He gripped on the sleeve of my shirt for more support, cooing once more as if he was sure he had gotten it right. I only smiled and lingered my hands at his back, just in case his legs still couldn't hold his weight properly yet.

I couldn't help but smile...and cry at the same time.

Hans was growing so fast before me. I saw all the wonderful things he could do, I heard his laughter, endured his cries...I experienced each and every milestone as he progressed to become the cute child he was now. I never missed anything when I was with Hans.

It's sad to realize the fact that I could no longer have that privilege.

I could no longer see Hans grow up in front of me every day. I would miss his first baby steps; I would miss his first talk. He could barely call me 'mama' or 'papa' clearly...and now I could no longer hear him say that word to me.

On the fourth of July, the third and last day of the custody trial with Alfred and Ivan...I lost the battle. In the next two days I would have to give up Hans to them.

On the second day of the trial, I was supposed to be the last to testify in front of the judge. I answered every question from both sides without a single hesitation, although the part where I had to explain briefly about the rape left me feeling very uncomfortable. Alfred's lawyer still came up with the point that I was not mentally well enough to take care of the baby, almost too confidently. I didn't know where he obtained his poise as he questioned me with such ludicrousness, but as my session was ending, I noticed the reason why the plaintiff was so assured that victory would not be mine that day.

On the front row of the gallery, at the plaintiff's side, were two of my housekeepers. One of them had just finished her contract last February, the other one was dismissed earlier due to the accident...when I slapped her in the face so hard, it left her with a large bruise and blood spurted out from her mouth...as she tried to stop me from suffocating Hans with a pillow.

They were Alfred's witnesses.

Although Ivan had told me that Alfred wouldn't have any more witnesses, with that American, anything could happen. If he wanted something, he would make sure to get it...by hook or by crook. I knew his game, but I never did foresee it this way.

I knew what they would talk about though I didn't expect it to be rather severe. The first housekeeper told the court that they saw I didn't took my medications to fight the depression during my pregnancy, and threw all of them away, thus, risked hurting the baby indirectly with my negative emotions. The second housekeeper, who seemed to have sterner eyes on me than the first, further testified what Alfred's lawyer had accused me of all this time; by telling the story of how I nearly killed the baby with a pillow stapled on his face.

In other words, these new evidences only proved one thing - I am not the better parent to Hans.

After they testified, a series of calling back witnesses filled in the whole day. My witnesses including me were questioned again and again. The session left me rather exhausted and I didn't fully understood what I really talked about. It was late in the afternoon and the judge finally adjourned the trial, saying that we were interrupting his schedule by prolonging the examination. He told everyone in the court room that he would discuss the evidences with the law guardian and the final decision will be announced the next day...which was today.

I went to the courthouse early in the morning, cladded in a grey suit without a tie, together with my doctors and my lawyer. Eva wished me luck and Dr. Liam told me to have faith. I could only smile and nod to their hopeful words.

Despite their encouragements, I was still by myself. This was a fight I had to endure alone. Whether I win or lose the fight, in the end, the person who would have the taste of the aftermath is me.

Hesitation kicked in when I stepped into the same room that I had visited just yesterday. I was nervous; yesterday's event didn't left me with a pleasing feeling like it did before, and deep inside my mind, I knew the chances of winning this trial had gradually lessened to a zero. The two additional witnesses that Alfred managed to pick up without my knowing had made it impossible for me to win the trial. Although I had a lengthy conversation with my doctors about this...crying and laughing in between, being assured that it would all turn out fine...that sinking feeling of losing everything was just too strong.

And fate made no boundaries for the emotions to take over my mind.

It knows no mercy.

I sat next to my lawyer, waiting for the judge to walk in. I dared not to look at the plaintiff's side, fearing something that I wasn't too sure at that moment. Perhaps I feared the defeat, or the triumphant expression on Alfred's face...? Either way, I didn't want to shatter myself on such instability. Sure, everything is at stake when I first stepped into this game, but fate shouldn't be so cruel.

The judge came in along with the law guardian. They discussed with each other in low voices, pointing here and there on the stack of papers on the judge's table. They nodded to each other, and the judge addressed everyone in the room about the decision he had made about this custody trial.

Fate shouldn't be cruel at all.

Every single word that came out from the judge, every single phrase that was read from the paper in his hands, was cut me like needles that kept piercing my skin and penetrating through my flesh. The pain was unbearable. It really hurt.

"After hearing the witnesses' accounts on both sides, the court has decided that the child...Hans Alexander Braginsky...be placed under Mr. Alfred Jones and Mr. Ivan Braginsky's custody. Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt will be assigned to his personal physician and psychiatrist for sixty hours of mandatory therapy sessions and a one-day visit to the child, every two weeks...longer visitation times will be granted after the therapy sessions are over. Any changes to the court's decision can be pleaded within a month. Court dismissed."

Three knocks of the hammer onto the block. Fate had decided. Hans would no longer be with me.

It hurt so much.

Even after the murmurs of sympathies and congratulates echoed softly in the gallery, I remained where I was, too stunned to move a limb, too shocked to even look up at everyone around me. I remembered hanging my head low, looking at the stack of papers right in front of me, the vision of them starting to blur by the second. I heard my personal doctor coming up to me, the deep concern in her voice resounded in my ears as she told me it would be alright, that we can still request for longer visitation periods so I could meet my son more than just one day every fortnight.

But I didn't want those. I didn't want to only be granted visits or share Hans' custody...I only wanted to live with my son...just the two of us against the world. I promised him that we would be together no matter what. And how would one expect that to happen if I had to part ways with him and I can no longer have the privilege of seeing him every day?

Hans was all I have left. And now, with or without the limited visiting hours that I was given by the court, I absolutely lost him. My son was all I have left, and now I was alone.

My little hero...who else would save me if he's gone?

Mr. Holstein patted my shoulder, talking about how he would attempt to appeal this case once again and make sure I would have Hans back. He was confident in it, so was my doctors...but I wasn't as enthusiastic about it. The sound of the hammer knocking down still ricocheted in my ears and all I could do then was to stare at the papers on the table like a mentally ill person, and try my best to hold back the heart-wrenching tears from spilling out.

I carefully pushed the comforts that were showered on me away; I pushed all the sympathies back to the concerned people around me. Slowly my vision and hearing were misted and everything I saw and heard seemed no different like when I was in a dream. Like I was in a nightmare.

But nightmares have no pain. This was reality.

It was reality that this day was the very day I lost Hans. No matter what other people said, I lost my son to the hands of two people who didn't understood what hell I had to go through to have my baby. And from then on, I would forever be alone.

In the blank and confused state I was in, I ignored every being around me and involuntarily excused myself as I stood up and made my way out from the courtroom before the others left it as well. As my feet stepped on the marble floor of the main hallway, my cheeks had begun to wet from the tears that I tried not to spill before. People around were watching me with a surprised expression stapled on their face, but did nothing to stop me from walking quickly to the restroom.

No one bothered. I was alone. I lost my son and I was alone and no one bothered to understand how heartbroken I was for losing Hans, my little hero whom I promised to be with forever...

Oh, God. It hurt so much.

I managed my way to the gents, trying my best to ignore the way I looked, with tears rolling down my cheeks and my face grimaced at the unseen pain I felt inside. At least fate considered to be merciful in that second and granted me an empty restroom and plenty of space to cry my heart out.

I chose the last cubicle and locked myself in it, before slowly descending myself to sit on the floor, facing the tiled wall that separated the outside world from this small space that I wished would comfort me from my sorrow. I was well aware of how unhygienic it was to simply sit next to a toilet bowl; no matter if the place was clean spotless; cleanliness was the least of my concern at that moment.

I cried. I cried as loud as I could, as hard as I could. My memory failed to recall when was the last time I had actually bawled that much, crying and sobbing to a point I was almost breathless. I wanted to scream, to question God why He had let fate do as it pleases with me...why He had let fate take my son and give him to other people's hands and left mine empty...but all the words gurgled in my sobs and all I could do was to hang my head low and cover my face with my the palm of my hands, wiping at my tears weakly.

In the enclave of the cubicle, I tried to find solace...I tried to assure myself that everything would be alright even if I had lost the trial. Even if I had to live alone once more after this, even if I had little to no chance to see Hans now that Alfred had him...I tried. God, I did. But I was too overwhelmed with the fear of loneliness, the fear of being lost...and all I could do was to get these emotions out.

I let myself lament for as long as I wanted. I didn't wish to go home with such a heavy feeling...I couldn't face Hans with it. No, my son shouldn't know how sad I was for having to give him up.

Hans deserved happiness. He deserved the best of everything in the world, and I understood that; no matter how hard I tried, I could never bring them to him. As much as I think I deserved the happiness, Hans deserved it more.

And hinting him of my imminent solitude was certainly the first thing I shouldn't do.

The sound of the main door to the restroom opening startled me for a bit and out of reflex, I lowered my voice but the hitched sobs were still echoed against the walls. I didn't really care if the owner of the footsteps I faintly heard outside of my temporary personal space had heard me crying. I didn't care if he had the intention to spread rumors of a crying man in the toilet box to his colleagues out in the hallway.

But the visitor was quiet. It took me some time to realize that he was carefully approaching the door to the cubicle I was in. I carefully stood up and held my breath regardless of it hitching rather violently due to my sobs...and hoping nothing more than the stranger to mind his own business and not to knock on the door. I wanted him not to check if I was okay and just walk away.

But how could that ever happen if the person behind that door was no stranger?

"Ludwig...Ludwig, are you in there?"

Ivan. Even with the door as the barrier between me and the man behind it, I knew it was him. His tone, his voice…the voice that I loved to hear so much…it was never hard to recognize it. And as much as I didn't want his presence right there and then, I knew deep inside I was wishing for him to come around and comfort me.

"Ludwig…it's Ivan." That clarified everything, but still, I never made a response. "Please come out. I…I heard you cry…"

Oh, God. I really wanted to come out. I wanted to open the door and just flung myself into Ivan's arms, where I could resume dwelling in my sadness. But the anger and regret for losing the trial came fuming back in my head, just as I was about to reach out to the lock…and eventually I backed away a few inches; shouting;

"Go away, Ivan! Leave me alone!"

There was silence in between us, and every second of it started to make my instincts heightened in full alert. I was hoping he would go away; I didn't want the situation to get worse than it already was. I knew if I started a fight with Ivan, they would have more proof that I shouldn't be with Hans.

But Hans is my son…my little hero. I was the one who should be with him, not them…

I heard soft ruffles of clothes and I could feel the door that I was facing shifted in slightly, as if something heavy was pushed against it. "Ludwig…please…I…I didn't expect this to happen, Ludwig…I thought you would win this trial. I'm really sorry…I really am…"

I remembered how I glared at the door, assuming that it was Ivan's pathetic face that I was seeing. The longer I stared at it, the angrier I became. And all I could think of was how stupid I was to believe that everything would be smooth-sailing when Ivan assured me so. That man I used to love. That man who raped me, who drove my head to the blinding lights of the nightstand. That man who took Hans away from me.

Bastard.

"Too bad you thought wrong! Now you have Hans…well, congratulations, Ivan! I'm sure you and Alfred would make the happy family that both of you dreamt of! And all jokes are on me now, isn't it? I am the man that took away Alfred's ability to have a child! I am the man that was so obsessed with Alfred's lover, even if he knew that he was off limits! I am the man who is too crazy to take care of his own child. And yes! Yes, I fucking deserved it!"

I hated the tears that accompanied my angry words, but I couldn't help it. Safety and mental health aside, I continued to lash out on the person behind the door. "And stop feeling sorry for me! I wouldn't have been this way if you hadn't raped me and kept it quiet like a fucking coward! I wouldn't have been this way if you had stopped Alfred from filing for my son's custody! Oh, _mein Gott_…_MY son!_ I carried that child in me for nine fucking months and Alfred simply took him away just because a couple of old blokes said he could?! Maybe I should have just saved that fucking American from that fall and lose Hans right then and there…and all of this wouldn't have happened!"

"Ludwig, please! Don't say that…! You had no choice; I know you must keep Hans safe and not risking his life for someone else's…so please don't say that! Hans…Hans is my son, too… If I were you, I'd…I'd do that as well…"

"Do what?!"

"…I won't save Alfred from the fall. The baby's important…"

Fucking bastard.

What would you know?! What would you know how it's like to be a parent? What would you know how it's like to be a mother? What would you know how it's like to protect your child from danger?

"The baby is important? Heh. Don't make me laugh! You valued Alfred more than you valued my son! Alfred was more important to you than Hans! You won't care if Hans got into an accident, you won't care if Hans died! Because all you think about is Alfred! Alfred! No one else!"

"Ludwig, you know that's not true! I cared! I cared if Hans get injured! I cared if he's in danger!"

"And why should you?! You weren't there when I gave birth to him! You weren't there to hold him in your arms, change his diapers, feed him milk, staying up all night and making sure he sleeps well… Why should you care?! I took care of him all this time, while you never even came to me, to us-"

"I cared, damn it! I cared because…because he's our son. _OUR son_, Ludwig… If there's anything in the world that I cared the most, it would be Hans…and you."

The last two words that I heard from the other silenced me for a moment. I swore I could feel warmth in my chest when he said those words…although my brain was saying otherwise as I thought of the possibility that the reason Ivan said those words was to get myself convinced. Eventually, I fell for the sheer rational than the blissful emotions I had when he included me in the picture between him and Hans. And not Alfred.

I stared at the dry tiled floor, exactly at the spot where I had just sat down; muttering with hopes the words were clear enough between my heavy breathing; "…go away, Ivan. You've won, I've lost. Go home. I'm sure Alfred would be celebrating it tonight with you…congratulations, again. So please…leave me alone. Now!"

There was silence again. I was hoping to hear the crunch of his footsteps fading away from the door, or the ruffles of his coat as he made his way out. But I heard nothing. After a good minute, the door was knocked with one soft tap and Ivan's voice boomed again. Only this time, it was just as quiet as my voice.

"Ludwig…if there's a chance that I could make up to you, I will gladly seize it. If there's a chance for me to love you…and make you love me back in return…I will take it without a moment of hesitation. I won't give up on you, Ludwig…even if it takes a thousand years… "

My eyes never left the door then on. The anger had subsided, and confusion started to build up in me. I wanted to believe that Ivan was just saying those words just for the sake of saying them in the heat of the moment…but I knew I couldn't. Those words…after years and years of being in love with Ivan, I understood very much how the tone of his voice would show what he was thinking when he speaks. And this time I was very sure those words that he spoke out was sincere.

"…I promise, Ludwig…no matter what, I will always make sure Hans is safe with me. I will make sure Alfred won't do anything bad to him. I know I couldn't atone to all the things I did to you, and repay to all the things you did for me…"

_Stop._

I didn't want to listen to him any longer. I was getting confused. My head hurt. And I was trying so hard not to cry again, trying to stop myself from making a sound by clasping my hand onto my mouth, hard.

Those words…Ivan wasn't supposed to say them. Not to me.

_He doesn't love me. He loves someone else._

"...and I know I did you wrong in so many ways, so many times…I know you cannot forgive me…but at least, this…I can promise you."

_Stop. Stop. Stop._

"I will take care of Hans…I promise. I love our son, Ludwig."

I closed my eyes, involuntarily pushing one lone tear out of my right eye as I did so. I had one arm hug my torso tightly and my body bent forward slightly, as if I was expecting a physical blow from the Russian man. It was getting difficult to breathe and I could only nail my feet to where I was standing, unable to dismiss the words he was saying…and the words he was about to say next.

"And I love you too."

_Stop this._

He never loves anyone but Alfred. Alfred was everything to him. They kissed, they hugged, the made love. Ivan loves Alfred. Not me. I never got the chance to make him fall in love with me. This must be a mistake. I must have been hearing wrong, or Ivan must have forgotten who he was speaking to. It's not me. It's not me that he's in love with. Not me.

Oh, God. It hurt so much. Fate shouldn't be this cruel…

I tensed up, still trying to hide the anxiousness from surfacing out. I wanted to scream, I wanted to vomit. The feeling was similar like the time I was raped; only there was no pain.

Only warmth. Warmth in my heart and…from my eyes.

In the brief moment of silence, I could only hear the heaviness in my breathing, as well as in Ivan's. In the silence fortress of the restroom, with no one to interfere us, with no possible escape if Ivan decided to repeat his offense on me again, with no chance for me to run away and leave for good…I felt content, peaceful…I felt like that moment was ours.

Mine and Ivan's. Just ours alone…

Even if I felt like crying out of fear and anger for losing Hans to someone else, the urge to cry in joy for finally hearing Ivan saying those words was so strong. How long had it been? Five years? Ten? I couldn't even remember when or what made me started to fall in love with Ivan… How long had it been since then?

And only now I finally could listen to his voice mirroring my feelings for him all this time. Only now.

Time passed us by, and suddenly I could hear the faint rustle of Ivan's clothes and the sound of his shoes treading the floor. He was walking away from me without uttering anything more.

Perhaps he had given up trying to talk me out of this so he could apologize to me face-to-face. Perhaps he was thinking that I was being difficult and stubborn by being angry at him. Or maybe he thought I hated him…

No. God, no. I loved him. I loved him so much. I loved him with all my heart. Please don't make him go away. Please don't make him walk out on me. Not this time. Especially not this time.

But how many times had that happen? How many times did he ignore my presence and chose to see, hear, smell, touch and talk to someone else? How many times was I left alone, hiding in the shadows and watching him doing those, and wishing secretly that he does it to me as well? How many times did we ever have a talk like this, together, just the two of us, without anyone disturbing?

And how many times did I try to hide my tears from him? How many times had I cry to him…?

If this would be the last time I could ever have these moments with Ivan, I would do anything to not let it happen. I lost my chances with Ivan far too many times. I lost the chance to tell him that I loved him, that I was pregnant with his baby…I lost the chance to hold his hand firmly when I gave the last push during the delivery…I lost the chance to make a happy family with Ivan.

But if this was another one of those chances, I knew I couldn't afford to miss it this time.

It wouldn't be so bad. I knew it wouldn't. I don't want to be alone in this. And this was the chance I have to take.

Upon hearing Ivan's footsteps heading towards the restroom's main door, I quickly unlocked the one of my cubicle and stepped out of the small space, facing Ivan and yelling out his name. It caught his attention, of course, and he turned to look at me, the worry very visible on his face. At that moment, whether Ivan's previous words was true or not, was out of the question.

"You will take care of Hans, won't you? For me? You will make sure Hans is safe with you and only you, right?"

I didn't glance at the huge mirror at my side to see how I looked before I faced Ivan. But I was certain that my wet cheeks were red from all the anger and tears and embarrassment, my eyes were puffy and still watery, and my hair was messier than it had been when I first stepped into the courthouse. And Ivan's snort that accompanied with a brilliant smile confirmed that I looked rather less presentable.

"Yes, Ludwig. I promise I will. Cross my heart."

He took his right finger and made a small cross over the left side of his chest…and gave out that smile again. And this time I knew that Ivan was truly sincere. All the words that he had spurted out before this, his apologies, his promises, his small confession…although there was a tiny possibility that he may not be saying the truth, or that he only said them to get himself out of the situation…I believed that he was saying the truth.

I walked closer to Ivan, suddenly unafraid of him. The things he did to me in the past never clicked in my head one bit. "…you…you promise you'll always be there for Hans? Tend to his every need? Make him a happy boy every day?"

"Yes. I'll be there for him…like how you would always be there for me."

Damn the tears. Damn me for having waves of unwanted emotions that rendered me weaker as a man. But the tears were a relief. And so was Ivan's embrace as I brought myself closer to him and hugged him without thinking much. I wrapped my arms around him…for the very first time in my life…and buried my face in the nook of his shoulder, wetting his scarf in the process.

God, how I wanted this moment to go on forever… How long had I wanted this embrace from the man I loved? I couldn't exactly remember, but the yearning for it seemed far more than a century long. As I held on him tighter, the anger and hate I had for him had completely vanished. Happiness and bliss started to fill in me, and no one would ever know how glad I was to finally hear Ivan say that he loved me, how content I was to finally hold him in my arms.

But fate plays it unfairly. Even until now, I never understood its game. I was forced to give up my son…just so I could finally be with Ivan. No matter how much my heart aches to lose Hans, I know I cannot have them both at the same time. Win one, or lose both.

Fate shouldn't be so cruel.

"It's unfair…isn't it, Ivan? I lost you to Alfred, but in return I was given Hans. And now Hans must go, and I could finally hold you like this…? It's not fair at all…" I heard myself mumbled those words, as I continued to find tranquillity in the Russian man's arms.

"Life is always unfair, Ludwig. We have to accept that. But I promise…from now on, I will never hurt you in any way again…and I will never leave you alone. I promise this…forever."

Such music to my ears…yet, I have to give up on my son just to listen to it spoken only to me. The price was too big. It wasn't fair for me; it wasn't fair for Hans either. As I shared a mutual emotion with Ivan in that particular moment, I finally understood that there must always be sacrifices in order to get what I desired. But for the price of the child I carried, the child I gave birth to, the child that soothed me whenever I feel sad…?

Fate shouldn't be this cruel.

Losing Ivan's love was intolerable but Hans helped me through. But what can I say when I just lost Hans for Ivan?

How much more can I bear?

God, help me.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

Ivan and Alfred came to my house two days later to pick up Hans.

Ivan's smile was just as vibrant as the last time I saw him; when he walked me to my car and left me pondering about the event in the restroom; when I hugged and shamelessly cried on his broad shoulder. He gave out a smile exactly like this one. I remembered seeing him blowing a kiss in such a comical way and mouthing 'Drive carefully' when I shifted my gear to drive, trying not to be lost in my train of thoughts as I pull my car out of the lot.

I remembered smiling to myself as I hit the road, shaking my head and chuckling at the absurdity of what had happened, as well as that flying kiss Ivan sent me…but as I gradually left the city and drove into the suburban part where I lived in, the sadness started to pour in again. I began to worry about Hans' future with a new family…my own future without him.

While Ivan's promise had kept me assured, I couldn't help but think of the negative aspects of this as well. Will Hans live happily in a new home, going through a different routine every day? Will it be the same as how he lived here, with me? How will Alfred treat Hans? Will he scold him for every mistake he did? Bruise him if he didn't do as what they told him to?

And what if…Alfred won't allow Hans to see me again? I understood that I was allowed to spend time with him from the court, but what if Alfred can find a loophole in it and deny my rights to see my son?

With Alfred, anything like it is possible. But fate shouldn't be that cruel…Alfred shouldn't be that cruel, either.

It was ten in the morning when I heard the sound of a car's engine humming from a distance not too far from my driveway. I was, at that time, sitting on the couch with nothing but a second mug of bitter coffee, a book that I had read before, and Hans' cooing, as he sat on my lap and played with his puppy toy, to accompany me. The attire I wore at that moment was presentable enough; a long-sleeved light green shirt that matched nicely with my pants and a sweater that added a little contrast to it….my hair was combed back, I shaved my face and I had my nails clipped. The only thing that might not be too pleasant to anyone was the dark, tired-looking rings under my eyes.

I had to admit I didn't sleep too well the night before. I woke up every half an hour, getting off my bed and checking on how Hans was doing. Sometimes when I went to one side of his small baby bed, I would smile and stroke his ash-blonde hair softly with my fingers without waking him up. Sometimes I would sob silently and only went away when Hans started to stir uncomfortably in his position.

That night, I wished time could just stop counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours…so I could have an eternal moment with my son, without fearing he would be taken away from me. I wanted to hold him in my arms forever…but alas; there was nothing I could do to make the wish happen. Hans would soon be living with Ivan and Alfred, and I…I would be alone again.

Hans woke up well past six this morning. At that time I was about to take a short nap before getting ready for Ivan's visit, after checking again and again of the things I had packed for Hans – his clothes, his diapers, his bottles, his toys (saved for his favourite puppy plush). Hans startled me awake when I heard his wailing and the sound of the side of the cot being rattled. I remembered groaning and dozily made my way to his crib. His crying stopped immediately when he saw me approaching and pouted, as he tried to reach out a hand to grab my arm. When I picked him up, a smile appeared on his lips, followed with a cute giggle…as if he knew who it was that freed him from his little wooden fortress.

God, I'd be missing that smile so much for days to come…

I took my time to bath him, change his diaper, change his clothes…I thought, since this would be Hans' first time seeing someone other than me and my doctor, I might as well make him look neat. I dressed him in a red shirt and denim overall, complete with a pair of brown soft shoes with a picture of a white puppy sewn on them. I placed him back into the crib, which resulted him in being displeased again and I took a few more minutes to prevent him from crying, before getting ready myself. Then, we head to the kitchen for breakfast. I gave Hans his usual soft baby biscuits, something I thought would be useful to make him practice chewing on solid food, and helped myself with a few slices of bread and sugarless coffee.

The next few hours I had before Ivan and Alfred's arrival was spent on playing with Hans. I tossed him in the air, snuggled and tickled him, made a little silly puppet show with his toys, sang various nursery rhymes to him…all just so I could hear his baby giggles for the last time. I was, perhaps, being a little too sentimental, but to only be allowed one day in every two weeks to see my son…I knew one day I would realize how fast he was growing and that I had missed more than just his cute laughter...

Apart from that, I didn't want Hans to sense how sad I was at that moment, and I tried my best to make him smile...even if in reality I was crying inside for him not to leave me alone. Just like how I tried my best not to cry in front of Gilbert when he was on his death bed, ready to embrace the end of his life…and I never did cry until the end of his funeral.

Just a quarter before ten, I decided to sit and cool myself down with another mug of that bitter beverage and a book, while I let Hans played on his own. I checked again, making sure I had Hans' bags ready nearby, and sat on the couch with Hans. At ten, they finally arrived.

I closed the book and sighed heavily, before glancing at Hans. The baby returned the look but unlike my sad and worried frown, his face was brightened up with his signature smile. A smile too similar to Ivan's. I planted a kiss on his forehead and carefully placed him in the nook of my arms, and carried him towards the door.

"Come on, Hans. Let's meet your daddy and mummy…"

The doorbell managed to ring once before I turned the knob and opened the door. Standing on my porch was, of course, Alfred – who was wearing a hooded sweater just like my brother's, jeans and sneakers. Behind him was Ivan, wearing his usual attire – a long coat with matching pants, and a familiar-looking scarf wrapped around his neck.

The car that they used, a seven-seat MUV, was still rumbling alive. I wanted to point it out to them lest they had forgotten about it, thinking what a waste of oil if they let the engine on for too long and what would the neighbours say if they saw it…and then it dawned on me that there was another two persons in the car, apart from the driver. Although I couldn't make out who they were, I had a feeling it might be Alfred's lawyer…and a bodyguard, perhaps. Just in case I didn't agree to this exchange in the last minute and decided to run away with Hans, perhaps…

That silent moment between us was very tense. Alfred's nonchalant expression, save for the sharp look from his eyes, was not making the situation any better. Somehow, I, too, contemplated what to say or whether I should ask them in first. Finally, Ivan broke the silence with his giggle and he came forward; forcing his way past Alfred. Alfred only budged a little.

"Hey! Hello~ …your name is Hans, yes? Oh, look at him…he has your eyes, Ludwig!"

Ivan exclaimed out loud, as he reached out his hand and held on Hans' little one. Hans pulled his hand away and quickly buried his face on my shoulder; whining slightly. Somehow, I managed to chortle at this.

"He's…he's not used to strangers, Ivan…I mean, not strangers per se…well, he barely gets touched by anyone other than me and my former housekeepers…" I backed a few steps away from the door, trying to hold the smile that had then stapled itself on my lips. "Come in."

Ivan came in first, and Alfred followed suit. I realized how much Ivan was trying to catch Hans' attention, cooing at the baby in my arms and trying to hold his hand again (and again Hans rejected the touch), while Alfred was walking straight in without even looking at my son…as if he didn't want to see Hans, Ivan and I together.

In normality, I would have asked Alfred to join in and coo over Hans as well, perhaps even start a conversation together. But not right then. Not when Hans just met his biological father for the first time.

"Umm…Ivan? Do you want to hold Hans?" I offered. While I usually would be rather protective of my son and felt quite reluctant to let other people carry him, somehow I knew Ivan could manage handling a baby.

This offer truly made Ivan smile widely, and in a childish way, he asked me once more…probably to make sure if what I was saying was true. "Really? Can I really hold him?" I nodded and carefully shifted Hans from my arms into Ivan's.

Hans was, to say the least, confused to be suddenly handed to another, not to mentioned larger, man. He looked at me, then to Ivan, then back to me again. Slowly his cheeks started to get rosy and he pouted, about ready to cry. I also sensed Ivan had started to panic at this and he tried to pat and hush the baby. Again, this scene made me let out a small laugh. Such a precious sight indeed, to see Ivan holding a kid for the first time and panicking about it…

"Hans...it's okay! It's your daddy here…see? It's just your daddy…" I tried to interfere, but given that our son almost always see anyone else except me as strangers, it wasn't easy to convince him who he was with him at that moment. I didn't know why I immediately acknowledged Ivan as Hans' father, just like I did when I made my way to open the front door a moment ago…perhaps it was just instinct that taught me to do so. Or perhaps it was only appropriate to present to Hans who it was that carried him at the moment.

I nudged at Ivan, as a sign that he should talk to our son as well. Ivan smiled again, trying his best to play his part; "_D-da_! I don't think I had properly introduced myself! My name is Ivan…_EE-VAHN_…and uhh…I guess I'm your daddy…papa…" Ivan looked at me; the panic clearly visible on his face now. "Uh, Ludwig, how do I make him, well, not crying anytime soon?"

Indeed. Hans was about to cry; his face had started to distort and tears welled in his eyes. At first, I opted to take him into my arms again, but then something silly hit my mind and I told Ivan this; something I didn't think I could ever forget seeing;

"Well…try to make a funny face. I'm sure Hans would be happy to see it."

And it happened. Well, Ivan did make a funny face; he made bug eyes and puffed his cheeks out, while shaking his head left and right, and trying to hum a happy song. And surprisingly, Hans liked it! He watched Ivan for a few seconds, and next thing I knew, he was giggling and squealing at the man before him. I, too, couldn't help myself and I giggled along.

The only one not sharing the happy moment was Alfred. It was too obvious. He was standing a few feet away from us, leaning against the wall of the hallway to the kitchen, and he was watching with those sharp look on his face again, not saying a single word, not making a tiny bit of sound.

If there were no grudges between us, no jealousy in our hearts before this, I would have called him to join along and meet my son. And I knew best not to. I knew I was still mad at him for taking custody of my child, and I knew he was still mad at me for the mess I indirectly caused him.

And somehow I had a hunch he knew…that Ivan had feelings for me. Whether the feeling was genuine or not, it didn't matter. Alfred must have known it, just like how he had known about my pregnancy even if I tried my best to keep it from him.

While Ivan was entertaining the baby, I took the chance to talk to Alfred. I realized it was best to talk to him when Ivan was around. At least, he wouldn't try to do anything to me…nor would I try to do anything to him. As I stepped closer towards the American, I realized something was on his face. Not the stern expression, no…that one was pretty predictable.

On Alfred's upper lip was a small cut, which had already healed, but still streaked a dark, visible line. I didn't realized this during the trials, but I made a guess it happened long before them…probably about the time when I received his court letter for Han's custody. Even if it did catch my curiosity to repeat questions in my head, I didn't bother about it too much…though I had a feeling it was Ivan who did it to him.

"Not joining us, Alfred? This would be the first time for you too, yes? Just like Ivan…you haven't seen Hans before." I tried to smile, trying to suppress myself from sounding too rough. Not in front of Ivan, and certainly not in front of Hans…

"Don't worry, Ludwig. I'll have more time to know him than you do."

I could feel my heart ache slightly at his statement. Alfred was always that sarcastic man though most of the time his sarcasm was only meant as a joke; even if it would annoy people at first, they would eventually laugh at how silly he was.

But this time it was no joke. The words he just said were painful. And I could feel myself breathing harder to keep myself calm.

"Ivan…can I have a word with Alfred? Umm…alone?"

I turned my gaze to look at Ivan this time, hoping that he would give us the green light. "_Bitte_."

Alfred averted his eyes from me to Ivan, as well…who was, I noticed, watching us with such a worried expression glued on his face. He gave his full attention towards us from the squealing baby in his arms…and I knew, from the way he looked at Alfred, in that brief moment, meant nothing like the times when they were deeply in love. When they met each other and kiss in the crowd, when they embraced each other and danced to their favourite music…

Nothing like those times at all.

This time I understood that the way Alfred and Ivan exchanged looks wasn't showing anything like love. As if Ivan was giving him some sort of warning and Alfred hated it so badly…

Somehow the existence of the small scar on Alfred's lip added to the tensed situation. This time I understood that Ivan had given Alfred that scar; probably by hitting his face after a heated argument, or perhaps it was an accident like how it was when he lost his baby. This time I understood that they weren't in good terms.

This time I understood…that their relationship was breaking apart.

This scared me. If it's true that they had resentments towards each other, then it would certainly affect Hans' upbringing in the future. It would be very hard for my son to grow up in such an environment, and even if that would open up a chance for me to get Hans back under my care, Ivan and Alfred would certainly influence him in a negative way…and it might be too late by then.

Ivan looked at me for a moment and I sensed the little hesitation in his eyes. He was probably worried that Alfred would do something bad to me if we were out of his sight, or vice versa. But he finally nodded with a sigh, approving the talk I was about to have with Alfred and he moved towards the living room; cooing at Hans once more.

I took this chance to lead Alfred to the kitchen, where our voices could be muffled from anyone else in the house. I chose to lean against the island countertop, while the American chose the wall. We shared the serenity of the silence between us and we stayed that way for a few seconds; not looking at each other; while our brains cooked up words to say.

Confronting the American this time, I chose to be a little braver than I did many times before. Perhaps in those times, my courage was dimmed by the thought of my son being in danger, had I chose not to be defensive. But now that it didn't make any difference, defensive or offensive, I chose to be my usual stern self that I had masked on my face whenever I was in front of my colleagues. I furrowed my brows and folded my arms, before I began speaking with him.

"…are you happy now? Hmm, Alfred…? You spread lies about me to our colleagues, you almost hit me and my baby, and now you filed custody for Hans and won…I'm sure you're very satisfied for giving me hell." I said firmly. Alfred's equally strict look had started to show a small hint of guilt in it, and I knew, he too wasn't sure about all of the things he had done to me…but that soon turned sour again.

"…well…served you right for fucking with me and my relationship with Ivan."

"Alfred…you know I didn't even come between you and him. Yes, I admit…I like Ivan. I always have. But I didn't even attempt to take him away from you now, did I?"

"You were jealous of us."

"_Nein_! **You** are the one who was jealous. You were the one who started all this mess when there was nothing between us before. You and Ivan both! And I had to be stuck in the middle of the fiasco, gambling with my son's future in your hands…don't you see how unfair that is?" I clenched my teeth and my fists, again trying my best to keep myself from bursting out.

"Hans is yours…and Ivan's. You can raise him however you want…but I swear, if you ever do anything to him because of your hatred to me, Alfred…I Goddamn swear, it would be my turn to make your life a living hell."

While I should naturally be calm with the American, now that all had been said and done, I couldn't help but felt furious and fearful of what he did and what he could do. If he could easily spread rumours of me with our friends, if he could turn the outcome of the custody trial to benefit him fully…who knew what he could do to Hans had he still felt any hate on me?

"…I won't do anything to that kid, if that's what's blocking your asshole so much. Ivan loved him." His expression became more unreadable; I wasn't sure if he was then showing disgust or remorse.

Alfred pointed casually at the scar that I had noticed earlier, a smirk formed on his lips for a brief moment. "I'm sure you saw this, yeah? If you're wondering…Ivan fucking gave it to me…right after I told him that I sent you the court letter for your son's custody.

"He was really angry. He scolded me…fuck, Ludwig…don't you know that he rarely do that? He was always very patient with me, I felt lucky to have such a nice man as my boyfriend. But not that night when he raised his voice at me…heh, I tried to talk back, and he punched me right here." Alfred brought his own fist and landed it right on top of the scar. "Knocked out one tooth…left me with a bloodied scar. Well, I don't mind. It was a small cut after all…it'll heal. But boy, the dentist sure charged me a lot for a fake tooth to be planted in that empty space on my gums," he chuckled.

I guessed Alfred clarified everything for me with that little story of his. I wasn't sure what the catch was behind all of this. I swallowed once, again trying to keep myself calm; "…so…are you telling me you and Ivan are not in good terms now? Is that it?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no, Ludwig. My relationship with Ivan still lives on. We are still partners, boyfriends, lovers. And that would, of course, depend greatly on you..."

"…me? What does your relationship with Ivan matter to me?"

"Oh, a lot, Ludwig! A lot…" Alfred moved away from the wall and started to pace towards me in a slow but threatening way. I let my arms loose and gripped on the edge of the countertop hard. "Ludwig…it'll be a lie if I say I didn't know that Ivan has feelings for you as well. He always did…ever since I first knew him. But, like I said, he was a nice man. Too nice, in fact, that he stupidly hid his feelings for you to cater to our relationship.

"But knowing that fatso, I know that…if you ever do return the same feelings to him, he would eventually leave me to love you back. And boom, there goes my relationship with him.

"But thank fucking God; fate was playing well on my side! You had a kid with that Russian...and with that little tyke, my worries about you ever being with Ivan is generally solved."

"…w-what…what do you mean, Alfred?"

"Oh, are you so stupid like that Russian that you just don't you get it, _German_? Think about it. Currently your precious little baby is with me, with Ivan. Now imagine you coming in our little happy family and take Ivan away, breaking our little happy family into pieces. What would that do to your son, hmm? How could he grow up well without his little happy family? How would he feel when he knows a stranger took all his happiness away in a blink of an eye?"

"I'm not a stranger to Hans! I'm his…his mother….and if that ever happens in the future, I will take him with me. I'm never leaving my son with you…Ivan and I have the most right to him, not you!"

Alfred's low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. It felt like I was facing the bogeyman itself. It felt like I was in a true nightmare…

"Please, Ludwig…you think I would ever let you get your baby back, or let you make a love relationship with Ivan? Hell no!" He laughed again, and God, I felt like I was almost being dragged into the darkness forever. "I love Ivan. I really do. And that is why I will keep my word to him that I won't harm his son; I promised to treat him like how a parent would treat his beloved child. In return, I want your word…that you will never show your love to Ivan again. Ever."

This was unfair. Fate shouldn't be so cruel…

I took a quick glance to the direction of the living room, where Ivan and Hans were. The nervousness was wrecking me further. Oh God, I shouldn't have chosen to speak to this mad American in private…

Fate shouldn't be this cruel at all. I just lost my son…and now I was threatened not to love the man that had admitted that he loved me just days ago. I couldn't take this…this is insane!

"…what if I refused your offer?"

He shrugged and gave me that annoying smirk. "Well, we can always go back to the broken family scenario. You can get away with Ivan as you pleased, but I will make sure you will never see your son ever again. Whether I bend the law, sell him up for adoption, or kill him, it is entirely up to me."

I looked at the American, too shocked to say anything. Did he say that he didn't mind murdering Hans? I could feel my knees shaking at the thought of Hans' lifeless body, helpless against this man's clutches. Yes, at that point, I may have fulfilled my dreams to be with Ivan, but I cannot afford to lose my son that way. Refusing Alfred's one-sided deal was going to cost my son's life, but accepting it would make me lose Ivan. This was insane, too insane…

"Well...I'm waiting your decision, Ludwig…"

I could feel my chest starting to get heavier and breathing had started to become a little too troublesome. My mind was in chaos; trying to make the best of the limited situations I was given. Finally, with a sweaty forehead and a heavy sigh, I finally nodded, agreeing to Alfred's cruel terms. "Alright. Have it your way, then. But you have to promise me you won't harm Hans…promise me you will take care of him…like I did…"

"Like you did? Oh, I have my own way to raise children; don't worry. I won't smother his face with a pillow," he said to me sarcastically, and turned to head out of the kitchen; considering our conversation was over. But then he stopped halfway and turned back to me.

"Oh, by the way, Ludwig. I think it is best you don't visit your son at all, starting from today."

"W-what?!" I found myself hurling towards the American; automatically grabbing his arms and forced him to fully face me. I wasn't sure how I looked at that time with anger, fear, sadness mixing violently in my head…but I knew it gave Alfred a glint of satisfaction when he saw it. "What the…a-are you fucking crazy, Alfred? You know I was given rights by the court to visit my son! Once in two weeks; it wasn't even enough! If you don't allow me to visit him, you're violating court order and I have the right to sue you!"

"Yeah. So?" Oh, dear God…I hated that smirk on his face. "Ludwig, Ludwig…you never learnt, did you? If I can make the judge believe what I told him to believe, make a lawyer to win my side in a trial, do you think you can complain about this to them and easily get away with it, hmm? They will never listen to a lunatic like you, Ludwig…sue me as much as you want, I can always turn a hundred and eighty degrees and fuck you back with it."

Anything is possible when it comes to Alfred. Anything.

"You can complain to Ivan if you want, force yourself to come and see your son, maybe…but I will always make sure you won't even come near and touch him, not even a hug or a kis-"

"You…bastard! _**Schweinhund!**_"

I couldn't take in another word from his foul mouth, and I found myself letting go one of my hands from his shoulder. I clenched my hand into a fist and immediately landed it onto his cheek, sending his head turning to the side. If I hadn't hold him with my other hand, he would have fallen to the floor with a thud and that would definitely alert Ivan. It might be a blessing; it might not, if Ivan decided to think that I was doing it simply to hurt Alfred and not because I was provoked to.

The hit wasn't strong enough to cut and draw blood on him, but it did left a visible redness on his tanned cheek. I was sure it might at least hurt, if not making him a little dizzy, but his eerie smile was still intact.

"Hehe…a punch from Ivan, a punch from you…fair enough for me. I'm sure you yearned to do that for so long…right, Ludwig? You must have that feeling of being satisfied, being triumphant…but it won't last long. Because in the end, I'll still be the hero and you're still the villain…and the hero always win."

Gradually, my stern stance just melted down; revealing the weak man I was behind it. I could feel the hands that were grasping Alfred's shoulder started to quiver, and sweat began to bead out on the side of my head again. Slowly, I relaxed the grip and lay my arms to my sides; defeated. Tears nearly welled in my eyes at the thought of never being able to son for real.

"…why? Why are you doing this to me…? What have I ever done to you to deserve this, Alfred?"

"Why? Well, ask that question to yourself. Why do you think you're good enough to have Ivan for yourself? Why do you think…that you could create a nice family with him, have kids with him? Do you think that he can forever be yours? Hmm, Ludwig? Tell me."

"….I love Ivan. I never wanted anything else from him, but my love returned…is it too much to ask?"

"Too much to ask? Ludwig…no one in this world, in their right mind, wanted you and him to be together. Have you even thought about it? God and his damn fate don't even like you and Ivan together, I don't like you two together, our colleagues don't like you two together…not a single human being wanted you both to be together and have a happy life.

"So if you ask me if your loving towards Ivan is too much for the world, yes it is. You both are not fated to be with each other. Get over it, Ludwig."

It hurt. It hurt so much.

I couldn't say anymore words to this American in front of me. All I could do is winced in the heartache and let my welled-up tears to flow freely down my cheeks. Yes, I did look weak that way and showing how weak I was in front of Alfred wasn't something a man like me was supposed to do. But I rarely let myself out, let alone being in a hurtful situation such as this.

I turned my face away from Alfred, who was undoubtedly smiling like the winner he was. The stressed atmosphere quickly disperse when Ivan's heavy footsteps was heading towards the kitchen. I hastily wiped my tears and took deep breaths, hoping that he didn't catch me in this embarrassing state like he did before. Alfred's fake happy-go-lucky attitude that emerged from seeing Ivan in the kitchen made me force myself to smile as well.

I couldn't afford to let Ivan see what Alfred had done to me emotionally; which I knew could result in a huge fight between them both and eventually affect Hans in the near future. I couldn't let that happen. Hans deserved happiness, and if this was the only way he could obtain happiness with Ivan and Alfred, I had no choice but to comply.

"I'll take the baby's stuff to the car. I'll wait for you there, hon." Alfred gave me a silent warning with those sharp eyes of his, and proceeded to leave the premise with Hans' belongings that I had readily packed the night before. He didn't even say 'goodbye' or 'thank you', and that was the last time he ever set foot in my house…

Ivan looked at me and smiled, before slowly advancing towards me with open arms. I was longing for that warm embrace to calm me down from the emotional turmoil I experienced earlier, but my mind clicked back to the promise I made with Alfred, and suddenly I felt hesitated to receive that hug from Ivan. I hung my head low as I felt Ivan pressing his arms around me, hoping deep inside that Alfred wasn't there to witness it.

"Hans is such a beautiful boy, Ludwig. Thank you. I never thought he would still look so cute even if he has most of your looks," Ivan chuckled at this, but I only managed to smile. "I will keep my word. I promise I will take care of Hans…and be the best father he ever had. I'll make sure he grows into a fine boy, just like you wanted."

"_J-ja_! I'm sure you will, Ivan…umm…where is Hans?"

"Oh, I gave him to the nanny waiting in the car. I thought…maybe I shouldn't bring him along if I need to get to you guys. I mean, well…he's too young to see his mother having a serious talk with someone else…if anything he shouldn't be around when adults talk, yes?" I knew what Ivan meant…he didn't want Hans to see me upset with Alfred around. And I was thankful to him for thinking about it through.

I knew I didn't look like I was before; with all the crying and venting I did, my face must have looked red and my eyes slightly puffy. I tried to hide this by walking out from the kitchen, past Ivan, and keep my head low. I still tried to make a casual conversation with him, trying not to give him any hint that I was indeed upset. I regretted ever associating with the American earlier and accepting his biased deal, but I had to make sure Hans would be okay with him…I had to make sure Hans would be safe in his hands.

Even if I have to agree to Alfred's terms and losing any little hope I have with Ivan, I knew there's nothing I cannot do to ensure my son's wellbeing. Hans was like my main priority in life. No matter if the world wanted to hate me and collapse around me…I can always smile in my heart if I knew he was safe somewhere else.

But yes, I have to leave Ivan too, in order to achieve that for Hans.

Fate shouldn't be so cruel. But this was all the choice it had left me with.

"Ivan…do you need anything else…? Hans' crib…maybe? If you need it, give me a couple of minutes, I will dismantle it…"

"Ah, it's alright. Alfred bought a new one for Hans. He even set up a room for the baby, filled up a box full of soft toys and cars for Hans to—" Ivan stopped talking suddenly. I noticed he was lost for a moment, as if some kind of invisible force just slapped him hard on the face. He looked at me, again with same worried expression he had shown earlier when I requested to talk to the American.

"I'm sorry…I…I shouldn't have said…I mean…Ludwig, you don't have to worry about Hans being with me…and Alfred. Alfred was determined to take care of our son…I know he did a lot of bad things to you, to us…but I trust him in this. Like I said, I won't let him harm our little boy. If he did do something, I promise I will do everything I can to get him back to you."

I nodded slowly, keeping my head low again. Of course Ivan would trust him. Ivan must trust him. If Hans was to live with them for good, they must be sure not to go against each other in any way. They cannot be broken because of a mere distrust, because of me…

After all, I wasn't included in Ivan's happy family from the start.

My silence seemed to worry him more, and he softly grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face him. I wanted to retreat from his grasp, but I was a little too late for that as he cupped my cheek and had me look at him in the eyes. I had no doubt that Ivan noted that I had cried mere minutes before.

"…did Alfred do something to you? Did he insult you again? He didn't threaten you, did he?" Ivan was getting worrier.

Oh, God. It always made me sad to see Ivan being so worried. How long should I keep my own feelings in and lie to Ivan just so he wouldn't be concerned about me? How long should I let fate play its game, how long should I let Alfred mock me like this? If there was anything I could do at that moment, I would love nothing more but to let it out. Let everything out. Let Ivan know how much I needed him and Hans with me. Let the world know I am not alone in this.

But as much as I wanted to say yes, my brain rewound back to Alfred's impudent words and how much he meant what he said. If he told me he could do bad things to Hans, I understood far too well that he could. He has the power to make anything he wanted possible.

Anything is possible when it comes to Alfred. He has fate favouring on his side. And whether I like it or not, I had to play along with their game.

"_Nein_...he...he didn't say anything…h-he just promised me that…that he will make Hans happy….just like how you will…" I forged a smile, even though my heart was crying silently inside. It's a good thing Ivan was convinced that I was alright, and he returned my smile with his own.

"Everything will turn out for the better, Ludwig. I'm positive...one day we can be together. You and me, and our son. But for now…please bear with it."

Oh, dear God. How much longer?

Ivan leaned in to kiss my lips, but I quickly withdrew myself from him. He must have been sure that something was definitely wrong with me, so I quickly excused myself; saying, "I-I have work to do. I'm sorry I couldn't entertain you further, Ivan…b-besides, it's almost time for Hans' bottle…he'll get cranky…and Alfred had been waiting for you for some time now…"

Ivan stared at me for a while, before turning his head to the opened front door to look at Alfred's parked car in my driveway. He sighed, and looked at me again…this time with a hint of sadness swimming in his violet irises. "Well…I guess I'll be bringing Hans to his new home now. If there's anything—"

"_Ja, ja_…I know…I'll call on you."

"_Da_…" He smiled and tried to kiss me again, but just like before, I flinched and cowered away from him. I knew he would frown at this, but he chose not to. He gave a few soft pats on my shoulder, and said, "I love you, Ludwig. I promise…everything will be alright between us. Oh, and thank you. I never would have thought I made the most beautiful boy with you…"

He chuckled and seemingly waited for my reply. Perhaps a laugh, or at least an answer like 'I love you too', but I didn't spoke anything else. My small smile and nods probably disappoint him in some way.

Ivan left my side and walked out to the door. He was about to leave the porch when he turned around and hollered; "Don't forget to visit Hans! I'm sure he would be very happy that his mother would come and play with him…" I didn't respond to him, and only watched until he entered the vehicle and drove away.

I didn't know how long exactly that I stood where I was, staring at the opened door, the then empty spot that used to hold Ivan's presence just minutes ago. I didn't get to tell him what exactly happened between me and Alfred, and how I felt about it….but unlike before, this time it was intentional. Fate and luck had nothing to do with it; I chose not to speak to Ivan about Alfred's coercions.

Call me a fool, but I love my son too much to lose him just because I was selfish enough to be with the man I loved. His safety is always my priority, and if there's a possibility that he would be harmed in any way had I chose Ivan over him, I wouldn't be with Ivan.

I know fate shouldn't be so cruel…it shouldn't play its game so unfairly. But what else can I do?

It took me a while longer to finally move myself from where my feet were nailed and close the front door. Just as I turned the lock in and heard the click, I started to let myself out. Slowly I descended down to the floor, sitting with my back against the wooden board of the door, and cried my heart out. There was no reason for me to hold it back, now that I was alone again. If Hans was around, I would have sucked it up and keep on smiling, but now that he's not…

This wasn't the first time I felt so void. After Gilbert's death, the nights I spent after were undeniably lonesome. Sometimes in the morning, I somehow forgot that my brother wasn't there, and acted as if nothing had happened to him. I cooked breakfast for the both of us, getting the table ready like I always did; not forgetting Gilbert's favourite cocoa drink in a mug with a picture of a yellow bird on its handle; before going to his room, supposedly to wake him up.

But when I arrived in Gilbert's room, he wasn't there. It took me a while to notice his tidy bed, his clean room and his total absence. The room smelt like no one had been in there for days, for weeks. It took me a while to finally realize everything and I ended up crying silently as I had my first meal of the day.

That was bound to happen once again.

I knew I would miss my son dearly. Perhaps I would wake up next morning, boiling water for his food and getting his bath ready, wondering what clothes he should wear and where should we spend our time at that day…until my brain click in the reality that Hans wasn't there with me.

If this goes on, I might go crazy. Literally. Oh, God. Help me...this is too insane.

I understood. In the sorrow that I had been swimming in from the beginning, I understood very well that fate and luck wouldn't be on my side anymore.

And Ivan could no longer save me.

.

.

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**A/N:** _New chapter. Honestly speaking, I'm not too fond of the ending...but I had to cut it there since the chapter is getting too long. Not too much angst either, but I hope it still satisfies the readers. _  
_Finally; some Russia/Germany moments...probably something most wanted to see of this story. I can promise there would be more interaction between Ivan and Ludwig in the next chapters, but I cannot promise lesser angst._

_On another note; I found out there are one or two readers who were deeply disappointed in the way I portrayed the characters and the pairings in this story. I have nothing much to say but...if you hate it so much,__** please don't take your time reading it, even if it's only one chapter**__. I don't force you to read my story, and certainly I don't quite appreciate you trying to be 'smart' about what I do with it. Thank you._

_For the rest of the readers, hope you all have a good day!_


	11. It hurt so much

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It had been five years since that day I gave Hans away.

And for five years, I had never visited him once. Nor was he allowed to visit me.

I knew I could. I knew I could attempt to go to the home Alfred and Ivan shared, demanded at least a peek on him, see how big he had grown, how he looked like, what new things he could do. I knew I could break the law and kidnap Hans, change our names and run away with him to another country, or negotiate with Ivan or Alfred, clean or dirty, to get Hans back and live with me…but I never did. I knew I was capable of doing those, given that I had the stamina and necessary connections to accomplish it, but my will was too weak that every time I planned to visit Hans, Alfred's devilish threats stopped me instantly from thinking any further.

And in the span of five years, I barely talked to Ivan. The first few months since they took custody of my son, Ivan almost always called me on the phone, asking if I was alright and if I needed anything from him. Sometimes he would try to start a meaningless conversation with me, even asked me if he could visit and spend the night at my place. I usually denied his invitations and sincere offers, even if he sounded so excited to even hear my voice, even if I wanted his company as much as I wanted Hans to live with me.

By then, he knew Alfred had threatened me not to visit our son. I was sure of it. His indirect persuasion for me to fight against Alfred's intimidations always rang through the receiver whenever we had our daily phone calls. Most of the time, I would always fake an unseen smile and told Ivan that I was busy with work, or that I had somewhere that I had to go to. Both of us knew whatever excuses I gave were a lie.

As much as Ivan and I didn't want to get together just through the telephone, Alfred was always there. I understood he wasn't too pleased with how Ivan was always trying to be in contact with me. There were times I could hear him hollering for Ivan to look after Hans, or go out for groceries…anything so Ivan could stop talking with me.

Steadily, I became more distant from Ivan. He did called, there were times he would knock on my door, bringing gifts and food…but excuses had become a regular reply whenever Ivan tried to get closer to me. It gradually became a habit not to talk or meet Ivan.

And I was sure…Alfred was very satisfied with it.

Meetings and work didn't help much either. The American would always be by Ivan's side in every single moment whenever I was around in the same room. Even if I had to meet Ivan for work-related matters, Alfred was to be by his side, making sure we only talked about work and nothing more. He was annoying, I had to admit…and I knew Ivan felt the same way too. But we had no choice but to let it be, if we were to make sure Hans could live safely.

Hans…my little hero…

I had to admit I wasn't feeling in the right mood since the day Hans left my home. An hour or two after Alfred and Ivan had gone with the baby, minutes after I had settled down from letting out my sadness sitting on the floor, the loneliness started to set in. And it honestly left me feeling more depressed than I should. I tried to find the strength to forget about what had happened; Hans' absence and Alfred's extortions altogether; by doing things I normally do around the house.

I started with the kitchen; wiping off the counters and sink with the kitchen cloth, even if there was no mess to wipe off in the first place. Then, I went to the storeroom to get the vacuum cleaner, before heading to the living room with the tool in hand and began to clean up the carpet and sofas. My brain immediately calculated how many times I should swish the end of the vacuum at one corner, how long should I keep on cleaning. I also started to think about what to do next…maybe bake a cake, or go out for a jog at the park…I could also go down to the library and borrow books to read at a café…anything…

Anything as long as I could forget just for one tiny moment that Hans wasn't there with me. Forget that I had just given him away; forget that I was alone once more.

A soft thump and the changing sound of the vacuum stopped my train of thoughts and I quickly switched the device off, just in case there was a problem with the electrical wirings in it. It took me a while to realize that something was stuck at the sucking end of the tool. Something very familiar.

Han's plush toy. The white puppy toy that I bought for our first – and undoubtedly our last – Christmas together.

I carefully bent down to pick the object up and dusted it off. I sighed heavily, wondering if Hans would be alright without his favourite toy in his hands. Hans could never sleep without his plush puppy by his side and he would cry for hours if he couldn't find it. For a second, I thought of calling Ivan to turn the car back to my house, so I could give the toy to Hans, but then I dismissed the idea. I imagined Hans' new parents would have bought him better toys than this; probably even bigger ones. Hans needed those toys more than he needed such a small, simple stuffed toy in a shape of a dog.

It hurt so much. It hurt to think that I no longer could provide such luxuries to my own son. Although many, many times I had ensured myself that Hans would be alright, better in fact, but I hated feeling jealous that it wasn't me who would hold his hand and enter a toy store together, spending our time choosing what toys to buy, joke with each other in the middle of it all…

I could go insane if I kept thinking about him.

But in all honesty, I couldn't help myself. Since then, I found myself occasionally staring blankly into space as the thought of Hans filled in my brain. As if I had lost some sort of connection between reality and dream, and all I could see and hear was my little boy. It usually happened in a few seconds, at most minutes. It felt like my spirit just left my body and I became static, staring but not seeing what was in front of me at that moment. It wasn't like my head had completely gone empty; most of the time my hands and feet are still working, but not the swirls of images in my mind.

But these were distracting enough that I had once or twice risked myself from getting burnt when I spaced out while cooking, and there was one time I became blank while taking a bath and nearly drowned myself when I gradually submerged into the tub.

In the last few days, during one of the therapy sessions with my doctor, the disconnection between me and the world seemed to be more obvious. I found myself staring at the ceiling, biting my lips and playing with my fingers more often than I listen to Dr. Liam's questions. Even a yes and a no were answered with a nod and a shake of the head. Not only was I losing focus, I found myself being more cautious and nervous when the subject of Hans was brought up.

I didn't want to know about Hans. I didn't dare to. Although subconsciously, I screamed for my son, I wanted to see him so badly. I wanted to see him running and calling me 'Mama' or 'Papa', with his arms open desperate for a hug.

But I held back this desire out of fear and anxiety…I mean, what if Hans couldn't accept me as his mother? What if he didn't want to be with me? What if he blamed me for everything bad that had happened in his life up to this point?

And although I assumed I had hid it well, one of these days people are going to notice it. I wanted them to notice it. I wanted them to know how much I needed my son, to care for and be near him. However, at the same time, I fear for myself and Hans, had everyone else known about my connection with my baby. Like Alfred had claimed, no one wanted Ivan and me to be together; who could tell what they'll do if they knew I had a son with him…

Again, for the third time in the therapy session, Dr. Liam leaned over and shook my shoulder lightly so I could stay focused. When I finally blinked and looked at him with a surprised expression, he only sighed heavily and proceeded to write in his notebook. Non-positive words, I expected.

"You were spacing out again, Ludwig. Something you had in mind? Perhaps you could share it with me."

"…I'm sorry. I was just…" I quickly rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers, squinting my eyes to stay attentive. "No. No, it's nothing. It's just a little daydream, that's all."

"It's about Hans…isn't it?" I bit my lower lip, looking at my psychiatrist without a word out of my mouth. He sighed again. "Ludwig…I know I'm not fully liable to bother about this matter but…you are seeing Hans every week, yes?"

I nodded. I lied.

"Well…is he alright? Are you worried about his well-being…maybe something happened to him—"

"Hans is okay. He has a happy family after all…"

I lied again. Honestly I never knew how he was doing. But given that Ivan would always give me a call and tell me all the amazing things about Hans; how he was so talkative and excited and curious about new things, how he would learn to read and count on his own, how excited he was to enter preschool and make friends. From these little verbal updates, I knew Hans was alright with Ivan and Alfred, even if I wasn't around.

God, it hurt to imagine it. Hans with Alfred and Ivan, building a perfect, happy family…despite being, literally, his mother, I wasn't even fitted in the sidelines of the picture. I knew; even if I was included in the snapshot, it'll only be an eyesore to anyone who sees it.

My psychiatrist quickly changed topics, since we both silently agreed that the subject on Hans would never bring the therapy session to bear fruit. He cleared his throat and resumed his sitting position, before addressing me; "Ludwig, I have a question for you…and this may be off from the regular things we talked about…

"What did you have for breakfast today?"

"Huh?" I glanced at my doctor, slightly surprised. I didn't quite expect that sort of casual talk, but I answered anyway. "Bread…one slice. An apple."

"Bread, apple…and?"

I paused for a moment longer, seemingly lost at what I just consumed hours ago, and answered; "Milk."

"That's all, Ludwig?"

I nodded. I heard him sigh again, as he scribbled more words on his notepad. "You told me err…long ago, that you exercised regularly. I never get a chance to ask what sort of exercise you do. Is it cardio? Strength exercise, maybe?"

"…I run. Around the neighbourhood. Sometimes I cycle; sometimes I use the thread mill. I just…I just enjoy running."

"And how long do you exercise?"

How long indeed; I wasn't sure myself. All that I remembered was; since the day after Hans left me, I had taken up jogging as one of the activities I must do everyday. Perhaps I was trying to fill in my time with something to do; now that Hans wasn't around to occupy my daily schedule; or perhaps I was trying to run away from the bad things that had happened to me; in a metaphorical way.

If my memory didn't fail me, I started running in the mornings; just when the first light gradually shone from the east. I usually took the same route towards the park. The same park where I used to spend my evening walks with Hans. I would jog a few rounds until my shadow started to get darker on the walkway, and then I would head home for breakfast.

But the time for my little jogs escalated rather quickly. After two years of doing the same exercise, one day I thought what if I could run further, what if I could spend more time than just an hour or two for it. And since then I had ran miles and miles, and honestly it felt good. I felt like I was running away. Away from the memories of Hans and Ivan, Alfred's threats…away from the things that made me stressed and depressed.

I would only stop doing so when I felt too tired, or when the sun had gone directly above me. But I couldn't possibly tell Dr. Liam that I ran for nearly six hours, almost every day. What he would think of me then? No person in his right mind would jog on for six hours straight!

"One hour. Sometimes two," was my reply. He looked at me above his reading glasses in the most skeptical way I had seen him do, somehow questioning if what I told him was the truth. He scribbled more words, and then he took off his glasses, rubbing his right eye slowly with his knuckle.

"Ludwig, son…I know how hard it is for you to lose Hans…and it's been five years too since that day. You talked to me about him and how he was doing with his new parents. You visited him every week and in anyone's eyes, that should be enough to keep you mentally well about the things that is happening, but subconsciously you seemed to be denying it. It seems like…you're running away."

"…I don't know what you mean…" I swallowed silently. I understood well where this would lead to. And I wasn't ready to face it.

"If you're hiding something from me, Ludwig…it's best we talk about it now. At least I could help you and we could figure out together how we can find ways to make things better. For you, of course."

Oh, God. Yes. Yes, I wanted to make things better for myself. I want to run away from this depression so badly. I want to forget about Hans, Ivan, that October night, the custody trial…everything!

As much as Dr. Liam's invitation seemed intriguing; like a ticket to the most wonderful destination of all, I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't possibly tell him everything that I had gone through since that day. The excessive exercise was one problematic thing to share, let alone my constant vomiting that I forced myself to perform every time I finished a hefty meal. Like running, vomiting helped me to feel less stressed and less depressed, and as grotesque as it sounds, it felt good to vomit. It felt like I was in a cheap thrill of escaping something that had haunted me before.

Frankly, all these activities were getting me feeling too tired to do anything else at times. And not to mention my physical appearance was changing slowly from muscular to average, and soon enough I knew I would get just on the borderline to thin. Perhaps…my appearance caught his attention and only now he decided to ask me about it? Come to think of it, since the start of this year, he had been showing a very concerned face every time we started our session for the week.

"I know I had told you many times…Eva did too…that we would always be here for you if you need us. If you need to talk, need to hang out with somebody..."

"You'll be here. I know. Thanks for reminding me."

"…Ludwig…both Eva and I are…how to say…worried about you. By right, our weekly therapy should have ended by now…but Eva requested that I keep monitoring you, err…just in case-"

"Just in case what?" I stared at the old man sharply, my brows furrowed and my mouth scowling, and repeated; "Just in case what?"

Dr. Liam didn't answer me for a while and I started to get irritated. "Just in case I would do something crazy and insane? Just in case I would…break the law and get Hans back illegally? Just in case I would commit suicide? **_What?!_**"

I raised my voice without realizing it, and propped myself up to a sitting position; glaring angrily at my psychiatrist. It made him uncomfortable; I noticed it in the way he tried not to have eye contact with me. The realization of what I did in those few seconds slapped me back in the face and I felt a pang of embarrassment for bursting out so suddenly like that.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" I tried to say more than just an apology; an explanation perhaps; but nothing came out from my mouth. I heard him sigh again, before he took off his glasses and started to pack up.

"Well, it's time. We'll discuss about this matter next week…I might have to bring Eva along to check on your physical as well. Umm…just…so we know you're doing alright with your overall health..."

"…my overall health? Is there something wrong with me, Dr. Liam?" He only glanced at me with a soft smile on his face, but the way he seemed fidgeted by my question somehow proved to me that the answer was 'yes'. I quickly stood up just as he did, and grabbed his arm before he could make it out of my study room and towards the front door.

"Forget next week. Tell me what's wrong with me? Now."

He seemed nervous as much as I was, and from the way his eyes were dancing with that feeling, I could tell he was contemplating whether it's good to tell me about the things I wanted to know.

As I lessened the grip on his arm, he said, "…it's probably too early to confirm this, and my diagnosis could be wrong. That's why I needed Eva to help me…" He patted my hand that was gripping his arm, and I lessened it more. "Ludwig…I suspect you might be close to getting an eating disorder. Though I have to say, for your case, it's pretty rare."

"Eating disorder? Wh—" I was a little dumbstruck and confused my his statement I tried to think of the possibilities of it happening to me, tried to piece all the things that I did to achieve such a disease, but my ignorance and denial kept on pushing the thoughts away. "B-but…but I thought only women have eating disorders! And I'm not trying to be fucking thin! I have no fucking problem with my…my fucking physical health! Why do you even think I have an eating disorder?!"

Shit. I raised my voice again. And from the serious look my psychiatrist gave me, I well knew I wouldn't be getting a positive feedback.

"…I can't prove anything, I know, but…I have a feeling you were lying to me…about the amount of food you ate, and the time you spent for your exercises. You might not be…but your upfront appearance is weighing more on my assumption." He paused for a moment, as if he was waiting for another outburst from me again, before he continued;

"Well, I know I shouldn't call it an eating disorder, per se…since physical perfection isn't what you were aiming for. You're…more like wanting to escape from something; something that made you hated and miserable or heated or dejected…stressed, so to speak….and you chose to do what the things that are common for a person with an eating disorder would do. Like I said, your case is very rare."

"So you're saying I'm…having an eating disorder…because I'm stressed?" He nodded, and I forced myself to chuckle at this. "That's ridiculous! There's nothing wrong with me. Well, yes, I am stressed…but it's not like it's my first time feeling that way…b-besides, you said it yourself…you can't prove anything that I have a—"

"Your sudden outbursts. It's proven research that people with eating disorders tend to develop very bad temperament, even to the slightest provocation. But of course, that could be a bigoted way to convince myself you were…sick. Probably you were just stressed, as you claimed."

He gave me an assuring smile and patted my shoulder. "Just keep yourself healthy for now, okay, Ludwig? Go easy with yourself. I'll come again next week, same time. See you then."

With those final words, he led himself out of my home, while I just trailed him silently until he reached the porch and off to where he had parked his car. I didn't stay to wave or look at my psychiatrist as he drove down the road, and as he reached his car, I was well inside my house again.

I went straight to my bedroom and lay down on the bed, burying my face into the pillow for a while. All that had happened before, the things my doctor told me, slowly sunk into my mind and I ended up thinking about them while my body rested. The therapy session left me unusually tired…perhaps, Dr. Liam was wrong about me having an eating disorder. Perhaps I was just stressed from all matters about Hans. Yes, that should be it. What else would have explained my untimely exhaustions whenever I thought of my son?

My little hero. I wonder how he was doing. It was undoubtedly very difficult to imagine Hans' image by then, since the last time I ever saw and held him was the same day Ivan and Alfred took custody of him, the same day Hans left me and left his favourite toy lying on the floor…

I had kept the toy on my night stand, and I didn't put it away in the store room, just like I did with Hans' crib, racks and the many other things he didn't brought along with him to Alfred's house. Like I mentioned, he didn't need them. Knowing Alfred, even with his overly enthusiastic behaviour and his loathsome attitude, he was sure to provide Hans the best of everything. Just the thought of how my son would smile with everything his new parents would buy him with was enough to make me smile myself.

I stared at the plush toy for a moment, before reaching my hand out to take it and set it beside me on the bed. A lot of things went through my mind as I played with the toy with my fingers. My heart silently wished for the toy to come alive and grab my fingers…just like how Hans would do if my fingers caressed his soft cheeks, or carefully patted his soft hair. He would hold on my fingers in a grip that would never suggest that he would let go at any moment, and cooed at his parent's hand in his. And in return, he would make me smile like there was no tomorrow.

But unlike the many days I spent in my room, with the plush puppy on the empty side of the bed, that day my little daydream was short-lived…all thanks to the vibrating noises from the cell phone I kept in the drawer of the nightstand. I knew which phone it came from; the phone I usually use for the conferences, the number that my colleagues would use as a reminder for meetings and what-not.

I let it ring for a moment; like I always did…hoping that it would stop ringing and whoever that found the courtesy to give me a call would give up from doing so again. I couldn't remember exactly when was the last time I took a call from the phone, nor did I remember when was the last time I joined the meeting and do my work at my designated office. I knew I should have picked up the call…considering my importance and how some of my colleagues may need my help in their part of work as well. But I never did, and I wasn't sure if I should at that time as well…

Eventually, I gave in as the phone vibrated for the third time. I pulled out the drawer and retrieved the device, before clicking on the 'accept' button without looking at who the number belonged to. I placed it at my ear and a familiar voice resounded from it;

"_Bonsoir…Allô!_ Ludwig? Lu-…Ludwig, it's Francis. _Allô? Allô?_"

My head was thinking of an answer, even if I was well aware I couldn't run away from the nagging I was about to get from him. I never took my time to learn French in depth, but the words he mumbled on the other end suggested that he might be dialling the wrong number and immediately, I greeted him.

"_H-Hallo_….Francis…it's…it's been a while…" There was a long pause between us…and boy was I glad to get the phone far away from my ears when Francis decided to raise his voice up.

"_Espèce d'idiot! Débile!_ Don't you know how long I had tried to reach you, Ludwig? Are all Germans like this? Or is it only you? Huh? What's the matter with you…? You didn't come to work, you didn't come to meetings…you made us all worried!"

"Francis…I…I already did my work; I've mailed everything to everyone…and…didn't…didn't my boss hired a note taker every time you all had meetings…? Besides, I don't think they were so important, considering the little amount of notes he took…" I was wondering if the part that he said that my colleagues was worried of my absence was true, but I let him talk more before I could clarify that.

"Your little note taker didn't even stay halfway through the meetings! He complained that we fought too much and didn't concentrate—well, that's not the point now…I…Ludwig…I just called to remind you that…well, we have a meeting in two days. At the usual place. Will you make it? It's…it's about economics and we all know you're one of the experts in it…and it'll be great if you would join us."

I sighed. I guessed the part where they were worried about me was just a way to lure me into listening to this. "Francis…You or any of our colleagues needed to have my presence just to address on that matter. Err… Yao or Kiku can handle that. Or…or Alfred." I nearly whispered the American's name, but I held my composure and added; "Besides…I'm busy."

"Busy with what? Every time I called your boss about this, he answered just the same, without giving me any valid reasons. I mean…we are all busy, Ludwig…but at least we spend time working things out." A pause once again. "And we still spend time together…as friends."

"…they're not my friends…"

"What?"

"Nothing…nothing." I cursed at myself silently for blurting my thoughts out. It's true…I rarely see my work colleagues as friends. Even if on the outside, I did admit to the world that Francis and Feliciano are my friends…sometimes Ivan, too…but I hardly consider them as such. Past experiences had led me not to trust anyone so easily. Not even my own brother, at one point of time.

The quietness that followed must have been awkward for both Francis and I. In the end, I spoke out, something I would definitely regret, one way or another…

"Alright. Save my seat. I'll be there. I'll be at the meeting…"

Oh, God. How long since I attended a meeting with my colleagues? I remembered attending one during the start of the second year of my vacation. I remembered sitting in a corner, not looking at anyone or anything but the stack of papers before me, reading and not reading at the same time. Even when Arthur addressed my name, I almost never heard it until the fifth or sixth call. I never had lunch, never greet nor met anyone that day, and as the meeting ended, I quickly made my way back home.

And since then, I never joined any of the conferences and gatherings they threw out. I knew some of them were searching for me…Feliciano left many voicemails, saying that he was sorry if he had done anything wrong with me. Arthur and Francis often left angered messages of my absence in their social circle. Ivan…well, Ivan usually asked me if I was alright and if I needed him there with me.

I needed him. God, I really did. But there were times I just cowered back in a dark corner and longed for solitude more than anything. I seclude myself from the world, from the needs I craved, from the man I loved…just so I could forget all the heartaches that had succumbed on me. Just so I could forget about Hans…

And without realizing it, it had been five years that I lived in such a way.

As I put down the phone, I wondered if this was really the right cue for me to come out from that dark corner.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

There was nothing out of the ordinary during the meeting two days after the phone call from Francis. That was the first thing I noted.

Disappointment of being called to attend it when there was really nothing out of the ordinary was the second thing I grasped that day.

Honestly speaking, my colleagues actually didn't need my presence at the meeting at all, especially this one. Since morning till lunch time, nothing productive came out of it. Yao and Kiku barely talked about economics at all, Feliciano slept under the table, Arthur only babbled about how we should do this and do that for the next meeting…and Alfred…I didn't paid much attention to him, but I knew he was staring at me from across the room, and was holding Ivan close to him just in case we would start any conversation or worst, we would hug and kiss each other.

Well, that isn't going to happen in the near future anyway.

I minded my own business and just did my own work, burying my nose into the many stack of papers I considered more important than the meeting itself. I also found it less necessary to tell the rest of the people in the room to quiet down like I used to, even if it was rather stressful to listen to the commotion. Well, they never followed what I told them to for years…why do I even have to bother again that day?

And just the same, they never took attention on me for the remainder of the day, with the fair exception of Alfred's alertness perking up once in a while. We didn't call on each other, nor did we take the initiative to talk…but I had a feeling Alfred's behaviour that day was more prone to a warning…and not towards me, but towards Ivan. As if he feared Ivan would approach and talk to me, of which, I too didn't wish to happen. Not that day. Not in front of Alfred.

Aside from this, I also had noticed something odd in the way the others looked at me…especially when I first stepped into the room. It is normal to stop conversing and look at a new presence for a few seconds before resuming the talk again, but the way they looked at me, the way they closed their mouth shut for a minute or two. They stared at me as if they just saw a wild stag entering the room.

I wasn't entirely surprised. I knew they would do so, with how long I wasn't present in meetings…

But I had a hunch it was more about my physical appearance. There was nothing wrong with my choice of clothes; unlike the time when I was pregnant with Hans – I wore a brown office suit, complete with a maroon tie. My hair was slicked back as usual…my shoes were as shiny and cleaned as they should be. The dark circles under my eyes could have been the cause, but it wasn't like it was my first time sporting them.

Everything seemed to be normal, except the existence of the contours on my cheeks that defined the curves my cheekbones. They never showed on my face years before…or ever…and while I convinced myself this new addition wasn't obvious, their staring and questioning looks told me otherwise. The tiny panicking feeling I had when I shaved this morning and noted the cheekbones came back to me, as I slowly made my way to my seat and trying to ignore those questioning stares.

But of course; their annoying glances died down gradually as the meeting started, and before I knew it, they had long forgotten about me.

The only one who still looked worried was Ivan. For a few seconds, I saw his usual sad eyes as I glanced up from my papers; looking at me worriedly like the time we were alone in the restroom at court five years ago, when I held him close and exchanged mutual feelings with him. I was sure he wanted to do just the same right then and there, but not in front of everyone. Not in front of Alfred.

The meeting went on until lunchtime, and I was the first to exit the room. I brought my packed lunch and my bags and folders as well, thinking it would be a waste of time to stay in a meeting that barely bore any fruit. Perhaps a quiet lunch at my favourite spot in the garden, then I would head straight back home.

.

0-0-0-0-0-0

.

The garden was void of people, as usual. And it looked as if no one had even used on my favourite bench for some time with how the seat was covered with old fallen leaves and twigs, and the paint slightly losing its lustre over time. The linden trees still smelled just the same the last time I've been there though, and with how the warm breeze blew into my face…it simply gave me a nostalgic feeling that I had somehow forgotten. I felt like I had just met an old friend again and as such, I embraced its welcome with a smile.

The only thing absent was Hope; the white German shepherd that used to accompany me during my lunch hour and share the food that I brought with me. Perhaps he had finally found himself a home and a good family to live with…or, because I haven't been here for five years, he must have thought I gave up on him and decided not to mingle in this garden any longer. I never wanted to assume that he was sick, or that he had died. Somehow, I felt that we would meet again, with how I promised to meet him with Hans one day…

But considering my situation now, that promise seemed like a forgotten dream that I could never fulfil even if I tried to. Nevertheless, I did miss that friendly dog.

I swiped the leaves off the seat with my hand, before settling down and opening my lunchbox. I cooked quite a lot that day – a huge serving of _Käsespätzle, Wurstsalat _on its side, three boiled _bratwurst_, a small serving of _Kaltschalen_ and a bottle of iced coffee. Such lavish amount of food sure brought back some funny memories, when I was pregnant with Hans. Back then, I could hardly control myself…I cooked and ate anything as I pleased, and no one was there to stop me.

And similarly, no one was here to encourage me to eat. The aroma of the still-steaming food on my lap would have make one's stomach grumble; wanting to digest the source of such delicious smell. But I never felt that appetite to consume them.

For the following minutes in the sound of the soft blowing wind and the faint rustle of the leaves above me, I stayed on the bench; staring at the food still intact in its container. I took out a fork with an attempt to grab some of the noodle, but in the end I only stirred them around. A few more minutes passed, and I finally ate – I managed to finish the _Wurstsalat_, one _bratwurst_ and half of the soup. I dismissed the noodles, convincing myself it wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, and I took one or two sips of the sugarless coffee, before the need to vomit came in again.

I usually didn't hesitate to throw up what I ate later, but since I didn't finish my food, I think it was for the best not to try it. I knew this new habit I picked up wasn't healthy, but I wouldn't get it to the worst. Yet, I needed it and I understood that, once I'm used to it, it's not easy to get rid of it.

Healthy or not, it is now one of the only ways I believed could eliminate the sadness and stress inside. The more often I vomit, the better I felt. The more often I throw up, the lesser it hurt…

I put away my lunchbox and slumped slightly on the bench; silently enjoying the bright greenery in front of me and the hints of sunlight from the trees around it. I smiled to myself; partially thankful to be shown such a beautiful site, partially because of the silly promises I made with my baby five years ago.

I couldn't particularly remember what I had promised him when he's still inside my womb, but I remembered wanting to bring him here to meet and play with Hope…and, yes, to knit a scarf just like I did for Ivan…for his birthday…

Hans' birthday is coming soon. His fifth birthday. I deliberately missed his previous birthdays and now that he had turned five, I wasn't sure if I should go and visit him. Like I had mention, I hadn't seen Hans since the day I gave him away. For five years…my son must have grown up to be such a fine boy now.

It hurt so much, not being able to see him grow up right in front of me. I had planned so many things to do for him, with him. I wanted to share bedtime stories with him, I wanted to bring him to the toy store and let him choose what he wanted, I wanted to cook for him or at least, eat out at that Russian restaurant in town, I wanted to send him to a kindergarten and waved him goodbye with a smile as I watch him attending his first school…

While I mentally smiled at all the things I could have done with Hans, I was well aware that it wouldn't happen. Not with how Alfred's threats were as true as he had claimed. Whenever I attempted to call Ivan, out of curiosity and worry in case something happened if he didn't call me for days. Most of the time, I wouldn't get an answer. But there was once Alfred picked up the call and again, we had a verbal fight. The next few days, I received a letter from my boss, asking me if everything is alright between me and Alfred, since Alfred's superior had suddenly cut down a number of trades and cancelled a handful of negotiations and meetings. I knew this was Alfred's warning for me; if I kept calling Ivan, God knows if he would literally cut my only connection to him – Hans.

Everything hurt, but I couldn't afford to dwell in the sorrow for long. As long as my baby boy is happy wherever he is now, I would be too.

My daydream was cut short when I heard footsteps coming my way. I perked up slightly, somehow praying that it was the German shepherd; finally recognizing this German man on the bench after so long. But my excitement died down instantly when I saw it was only Ivan.

But why should I feel disappointed? Shouldn't I be happy to finally meet the man I loved, after years of cowering into the dark corner and purposely lost all contact with him?

I missed him so much, truly I did. But Alfred's threats were strongly ringing in my ears that I ended up shifting to the side of my seat, nervously, instead of standing up and hugging him. Ivan must have guessed what happened between me and Alfred, and I could see it in the way he too, didn't attempt to embrace me. I glanced around, behind Ivan and beyond; observing the garden and outer corridors of the conference building, just to make sure we were alone. Ivan confirmed it eventually, by saying, "We're alone. Alfred had to meet his boss and send some papers off to one of the military headquarters nearby…something like that."

I sensed that he tried to smile at me, but the situation of us meeting in the same garden where Alfred almost hit me and Ivan came to stop him, seemed so awkward that his smiled almost looked bitter. Nonetheless, I returned the bitter smile, just the same. "May I…?" he said; pointing at the empty part of the bench beside me. I nodded, and he went to sit down.

Silence swam along with the wind and we sat there, not looking at each other, as if we were waiting for something to happen, or waiting for either of us to start a conversation. Alas, Ivan gave in. "Ludwig…it's…it's Hans birthday in a month. You didn't visit him, let alone attend any of his birthdays before, so…I thought…maybe you should this time, you know? He'd be upset if his real mother wouldn't celebrate it with him…"

I sighed and rubbed my face once; decided to be blunt about this matter; "I have a feeling you know that…I can't do that, Ivan. Alfred threatened me…saying he would hurt Hans if I even try to come to your house…"

"…he threatened to do that too…he said he would hurt Hans, if you speak to me?"

I looked at Ivan, a little surprised at first of knowing that he knew, but it hit me back. Of course Ivan knew. Unlike anyone else, he was well aware of the sour relationship I had with Alfred, and such things could be easily thought of. But to think that Alfred would do just the same to Ivan; threatening to hurt Hans if he attempted to make contact with me…

Oh, dear God. It hurt so much.

"_Blyad_…that bastard is using our son as means to threaten us from seeing each other…" Ivan looked tensed as he said those words. He was clearly worried…and I was grateful he was worried; at least it showed that he cared. But there was something else in the tone of his voice as well – anger. And that wasn't good. If Alfred picked up that emotion emitting from Ivan as the day ended, I was confident that they would start a fight and that wouldn't be nice sight for my son to see.

"I'm sorry…" I quickly muttered; not wanting Ivan to feel angered for too long. It worked somehow; when I saw Ivan smiling at me – a genuine smile this time – and pulled me closer to his body. Naturally, after what had happened between Ivan and I that had led to such a mess till that day, I would have pushed him away and denied his touches out of fear. But at that moment, it felt so soothing. I let his arm grab my shoulder softly and I leaned into him, at which he responded by kissing my forehead.

I had never felt such…tenderness in my life. Not even my own brother provided me this sort of feeling.

Again, silence accompanied us in such moments before I heard Ivan sighing again. "Please come to Hans' birthday party. It's alright if you don't have any presents for him…I just…I just want you both to meet. I want him to know who his real mother is."

"…but…Ivan, I—"

"No buts, Ludwig. You haven't seen him since he was a baby. He's…he's a really beautiful, smart boy now. He has your eyes, your nose…Don't you want to meet him, my love?"

"I do…I want to, but…" I felt my cheeks heating up suddenly, thanks to those last two words Ivan spoke. All the words I had thought up to rebut everything Ivan tried to convince me with simply disappeared. And I ended up fidgeting uncomfortably in his arms and shyly muttered; "Don't call me that. It…it sounds so wrong, you called Alfred that too…"

He giggled at me and kissed my forehead once more. "How would you know if I ever said that to Alfred? Because we're together? Hehe. Ludwig dear, the closest I ever get to call him is 'babe'…and that's just to annoy him." He giggled again, and I couldn't help it but join in.

"But seriously, Ludwig. Please come and visit Hans. Come to the birthday party. I'm sure Alfred would call his neighbours and co-workers to join in…and they will bring their kids too, so there will be many people around. Enough to get you hidden from Alfred, if that was what you were worried about…"

Ivan's stunning eyes showed how much he was hoping that I would say 'yes'. I weighed the possibilities and uncertainties in my head, and finally nodded. "Okay. But I can't promise I will be there for long…"

"_Nyet_. No need for promises. I just want you to see Hans. Kiss and hug him, like a parent would." Before I could do or say anything, Ivan leaned in closer to me and kissed my lips…to which I could only respond with yet another flush on my face.

"I love you, Ludwig." He said with a smile, as he pulled himself away and proceeded to caress my cheek with his rough hand. However, the smile slowly turned smaller when he traced his fingers over the contour of my cheekbone. I was sure it worried him in a way, and I knew he wanted to ask me about it. But he chose not to. Not this time.

He gave me a softer kiss on the other cheek that he didn't touch, before he stood up, with the intention to go back to the meeting room, now that lunchtime was over. "Take care of yourself,_ da_? I guess I'll see you. Soon."

I watched Ivan walking off to the building quietly and only waved my hand discreetly at him. He must have known that I wasn't going to join the meeting again and never asked me to join him and walk together to the room. Or perhaps he feared Alfred would catch us had we walked together, and preferred not to have the American going berserk on us again. Ivan disappeared just as soon as the memories of the kisses he gave me moments ago, came back hitting and I started to blush again.

Damn it.

I didn't know what had gotten into me, but somehow I missed those kisses. They were tender, soft, full of love and care…unlike the ones I was forced to do, when Feliciano begged me to do it as a good luck charm of some sort, or when Ivan pushed me down to the bed and—

No, nothing like those. These kisses I got were a sign of love, and like a school girl, I was deeply flustered by them. And blindly, I agreed to them and agreed to the invitation.

God. Would I be strong enough to see Hans this time? Would he recognize me?

Would my little hero know who I am to him?

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It was the sixth day into August. It was Hans' birthday.

I didn't really know what I should bring to his party. Even if Ivan told me that it wasn't necessary to bring any presents and only my presence would be enough, I didn't think it was appropriate…especially to a five-year-old; when all he would love to have on such a special day was a great present. It took me days to think of something to buy for Hans; I spent hours in the toy store wondering what my baby boy would like. Since I didn't live with him, I didn't know what preferences he had taken over the span of five years.

In the end, I decided to pick up my knitting tools and started to knit a scarf…just like I did for Ivan for his birthdays. Ever since I had Hans, I had stopped doing it in my pastime and kept the needle and yarns in the deepest part of my closet. Days after failing to get a present, I scavenged the closet for the tools and spent the days prior to Hans' birthday to make a long wool scarf.

The scarf was bright blue with white hems, complete with cartoon pictures of a olive-green Volkswagen Beetle on each of its ends. I didn't know if my little boy likes cars, or if he prefers something else. But assuming that most boys do (I know I'm still obsessed with them), I decided to go with those designs.

I finished the scarf three days ago; thanks to my inexperienced hands and my current habit of spacing out in the middle of almost everything I did. It was my first time knitting a scarf for Hans, so I couldn't afford to make any mistakes. I folded it and packed it into a small box I managed to get in the last minute, before I arrived at Alfred's residence.

Alfred's house was very…well, American. Unlike my simple four-storey townhouse with only a small front lawn and a side garden enough to grow a patch of sunflowers, Alfred had a wider yard behind his three-storey mansion. He even had a pool and a tennis court, located near the garage, which undoubtedly stored his many collections of sports cars.

And that day, he held Hans' birthday party at the backyard; overlooking the rest of the town where his house was located in, and the beach at the edge of it. It was a beautiful sight, and somehow I was glad that my son lived in such a nice environment.

I arrived at Alfred's house an hour late, wearing a white shirt and a brown formal jacket, with a darker brownish pants and black shoes. I had no clue as what to wear, and since I received no invitation cards, I had to wait for Ivan to open the gates for me. I parked my car outside Alfred's compound. It's certainly best not to trigger him into being angry with me...not on this special day. Another half an hour passed, and then Ivan met me outside the guard house and took me in. While the other guests went through the front door of the mansion to get to the party, Ivan ushered me to dismiss going into the house and go around the garden instead, as to avoid questions from strangers, or worst, from Alfred.

He took the chance of sneaking me around the house, to carefully push my body and let it lean against the wall. This scared me endlessly at first. I thought he wanted to take advantage of me, like he did that October night, and I started to shiver at the thought of being raped again, with no one around to help me. I felt the strong urge to punch Ivan as he gripped my shoulders hard. I wanted to run away and scream for help, since I never get to do just that when the incident happened. But before I could do any of that, Ivan quickly hugged me. He must have read my uncomfortable gestures and proceeded to embrace me as a reassurance that he wouldn't do anything to me without my consent.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my love...I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just...I'm really, really happy that you decided to come to this party. I should have just sent out an invitation card to make it easier for you to get in...but, you know...Alfred, he..." Ivan trailed off, contemplating whether it's best to continue or leave out the topic altogether. But then he sealed the conversation and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my lips, to which I gladly returned.

"You seemed a little…healthier…" he said, as he pulled away from me slightly and caressed my cheek like he did before. Well, it was true that I had slowed down on my bad eating habits, considering how I had to concentrate making the scarf for Hans. I guessed I must have gain a little extra in those days…

"_Danke_, Ivan…I…I'm still not sure if I should really be here…"

"Don't worry, Ludwig. Just enjoy yourself, _da_? Right now, I need to help Alfred get some things out, but I'll be back soon." He gave me another kiss and was about to go back to where we came from, before he turned to me and said, almost cheerfully; "Why don't you go to the party and meet Hans first? He's in the yard...playing with his friends. I'll catch up with you two later."

"Wait, Ivan...which one is-"

Too late.

Ivan was gone before I could call him back and finish asking what I wanted to ask. He somehow must have forgotten that, the last time I saw Hans was when he was a baby. He failed to tell me which kid I should be seeking out, let alone describe the current features my son has - his hairstyle, his face, whether he's thin or chubby or tall or short...

Also, Ivan failed to tell me that there would be a lot more attendees in this party than a regular, closed one that usual parents would have for their children. This birthday almost looked like an outdoor wedding; with a huge tent adorned with grand decorations, and a tall chocolate cake decorated with sugary cartoon characters stood under it. There were booths lined up on one side, where experienced chefs were busy preparing food for the guests. Opposite the chefs and the dining tables was where most of the kids played; a balloon castle, a small playground, a bumper car platform and a puppet show to entertain them. Not too far from the crowd, a live band was playing children songs and nursery rhymes with their instruments, entertaining the kids into singing along with them, and giving a faint background music to the adults exchanging empty talks over a cocktail drink.

In other words, Hans' birthday party that year was very splendid. And I wondered if Ivan and Alfred had the same grand celebration for the previous four birthdays Hans had. With so many guests and so many entertainments, I was sure Hans would be so happy…

As much as I appreciated Ivan and Alfred's efforts to bring happiness to my little hero, deep inside my heart was scarred. It hurt so much to think that I couldn't give him all of these. Even if Hans did live with me, I was well aware that I couldn't provide him such luxuries. I don't have a big house. I don't own a pool, or a tennis court, or a vast backyard where he could run around freely on his birthday party. I barely have friends to invite over for his celebration even…

It hurt so much that I truly cannot be a good parent to Hans…in a sense that I was barely able to give him this sort of life, which was what almost every children in the world dreamt of.

I avoided the crowd of people, who was obviously perfect strangers to me, and moved to what I believed was a table meant for Hans' birthday gifts. I took out my own gift from the inner pocket of my jacket, and spent my time to look at where I should put it among the bunch of wrapped objects, which irrefutably looked very expensive. I smiled to myself at this. Despite the regret in my heart for not being able to give these to Hans, I was simply thankful that my little boy has the happiness he so deserved.

But where was _my_ happiness?

My life wasn't all flowers and rainbows. While I do admit there were times I never felt gratified by this life I chose, a life full of sadness and sorrow, but at the same time I do admit there were little things that had made me smile and laugh more than I should.

Like the time Gilbert gave me my very first book to read. He always purposely made me do things that I didn't enjoy, like archery and fist-fights, when he knew that I loved nothing more but to read. And that one Christmas night, he gave me a book, saying that he found it on the ashes of the fireplace, telling me that a Christmas spirit must have dropped it for me. I didn't think he knew that I knew he was lying, just so he could cover himself up with his own ego. God knows how happy I was at that time, and until now I still treasured that book.

Or, like the time I bought my first puppy. It was lonely sometimes in Gilbert's old mansion; living there with nothing much to do but cook and read and do administrative work for my boss. One of the servants suggested that I get a pet, and so I did. It was a hassle to take care of it at first, but after a while, I loved its company…for some reason, it made me happy. In fact, I bought another two other breeds after that, and whenever I got home from a stressful day at work, the dogs were the very first thing that I looked forward to.

Or, like the time I first fell in love with Ivan. Even if he never heard me saying it out loud, and even if I managed to hide my feelings for him for years, his presence near me was something I always looked forward to. Falling in love, even to a man like Ivan, gave me some form of happiness that I couldn't even describe properly. A thrilling and exciting sort of happiness. And that happiness was absolutely irreplaceable.

But how can I ever describe this one sort of happiness that I felt, as I stood next to one end the table filled with birthday gifts…while on the other end, was a group of children holding hands and going around in circles, laughing and screaming to their little game as the band played out a tune of _Ringelpiez._

No, the shrill laughter of the little kids didn't bothered me one bit, nor were their inconsistent coordination as they went around and around a little faster than they did as they started out. As the music played to an end, they all deliberately fell down onto the soft grass. More laughter ensued. The grown-ups also smiled and giggled at their antics. I myself couldn't help but smile as well.

However, my smile was quivered, as the slight shock started to thicken in my chest. All of the children that played at the other side of the long table had similar appearances, like how you would see in rich celebrities' kids – rosy cheeks puffing out as they chuckled, bright and beautiful eyes that almost never saw sadness before, soft hair that bounced and waved whenever they jump and run around, happy smiles that could cheer up anyone who looked at them…

But one boy caught my attention the most.

The boy I was desperately staring at was wearing a bright blue shirt, a bowtie to match with his brown pants and suspenders. His fair complexion made the blushes on his cheeks more obvious, and he had the cutest smile I had ever seen. His hair was cut in a bowl-cut like fashion, like how most kids his age would sport, and it was the colour of ash blonde.

The colour of Ivan's hair. Even his smile almost mirrored that man's…

Could this be him…?

The boy was chortling happily as he helped his friends up from their sitting positions, and when he was done with it, he bent down dusted the back of his pants, getting the remaining grass and dirt off from the fabric. I found myself staring at him longer, as if I was waiting for some sort of confirmation to my own curiosity.

As he straightened up, our eyes accidentally met each other. I found he was looking at me, in an almost awing expression. I was also amazed by him, especially how his eyes looked so much like mine. Upturned eyes, bright blue irises, slightly longer eyelashes…exactly like mine…

And then, he smiled. The smile was like the exact replica of Ivan's; the way it curved up and making his eyes slightly squint…everything. I wasn't sure if I should return the smile. I wasn't even sure if he was really smiling at me.

But then he started to move from his spot, almost jogging towards me with the smile still drawn on his face. I heard him giggle and he said something that almost struck me like lightning, and I felt so numb with the mix of emotions I was feeling as I continued to look at him, coming towards me, calling me…

"Mama!"

Could this really be Hans?

Did he recognize who I was? Did Ivan tell him about me, how I looked like and if he should look out for me today?

"Mama!"

The boy approached me with every jog of his little feet. He had his arms gradually opening, as if he was expecting that I would catch him as he move within arm's reach, twirl him in air and embrace him, just like a good parent would do to his son. Slowly these thoughts and the sight of the little child coming near mingled together in my senses, and I started to feel nervous and excited at the same time.

God, if it was true that this boy is Hans, this would my first time in five years to ever hold my child again. The first time I would be able to feel happiness after those days of spending my time without anyone being aware of my loneliness. At that moment, as I looked at the boy's beautiful smile, I felt as if the darkness that I usually hid myself in suddenly disappeared and a bright light had emerged to give me the hope that I thought was forever gone.

I smiled wider, my eyes welled a tiny pool of tears, as I held up both of my arms slightly, somewhat ready to take the little boy into my arms. "Hans..._mein kleiner Held_..." I whispered coarsely, to which nobody heard it but me. I took a step forward, trying to think of what to say to him, or what he would say to me. Although at that moment, nothing else matters.

But the light was blinding me. It lit up my darkest corners, but it was too bright. And I was blinded by it. Too blind to a point I had forgotten about fate and its never-ending game on me.

Fate knows no mercy. Not to Hans, never to me.

I was about to bend down slightly to pick the boy up, when I realized his eyes weren't exactly looking at me. And he wasn't slowing down either. By then I understood that he wasn't exactly aiming the hug for me…but more to the person behind me. At the back of my mind, I prayed it wasn't who I thought it was…

But alas, how can I ever run away from this bad road I was forced to walk on?

"Hey, sport! Come here, you!"

Alfred. It was Alfred's voice. Even though he was behind me and was basically was blocked from my view, I didn't turn to see to confirm that it was him. Anyone would know that voice.

I somehow felt like the colour on my face had drained completely at this twist of events. I quickly fixed my gesture, pretending to observe the gifts on the table just so Alfred wouldn't notice me. I felt disoriented with this unexpected turn, almost felt like I wanted to throw up and faint right at that very moment. I held on the edge of the table to avoid these from happening, and force myself not to bat my eyelids so the welling tears won't fall down along with my growing frustration.

I knew this was making look pathetic and weak, something anyone would deem not possible for a man of my stature to experience, but at that time, I was too sad and too shocked. It felt just like the day I received news that my brother had passed away, when I was nowhere near him. But this one hurt me on a totally different level.

Not being acknowledged as a parent by my own son…

Oh, dear God. It hurt so much. It hurt more than losing him in custody. At that moment, it felt like I lost Hans completely.

I sucked it up and took a little courage to peek on them over my shoulder. Hans was still running towards Alfred, his arms now wider than before. His cute voice kept on calling Alfred "Mama!", and as he reached Alfred, Alfred picked him up and twirled him around in the air, earning a loud mix of laughter from the both of them. And they finally ended it with a tight hug.

Of all the things I wanted to do with Hans, Alfred had done it first before me.

Oh, God. It really hurt…

"Mama, when can we eat the cake? You know I like cakes…and I'm starving!"

Hans liked cakes? Oh, God, why didn't I know…?

"Oh, don't lie, little Mister! Didn't Steve just serve you food? You're not starving…you're just saying that so you can dig in that cake, yeah? Can't do that now; we have to wait for your daddy to join in!" Alfred tickled the boy's tummy and more laughter ensued. I didn't want to watch such a happy image of them together…because I knew I wanted to be in Alfred's position so badly now.

I wanted to be the one to carry him that way, the one to hug and kiss him and tickle him, the one to feel him wriggle in my arms as he laughed happily for merely just being with me. I wanted to be the one he would recognize as his true parent, I wanted to hear him call me—

"And did you just call me 'mama'? Hans, you know I told you to call me 'papa'…'mama' seemed so embarrassing…I mean, what would the neighbour say? They'll think I'm a girl, you know…"

"Hehe. Daddy says it doesn't matter if I call you 'mama' or 'papa', because you're still my parent and we're still family!"

No. Oh, dear God, no. I am Hans' real parent, not Alfred! I am his mother; I am a part of his family. Why didn't he know this? Why didn't Alfred or Ivan tell him about me and my existence and who I am to my son? Oh, God. It hurt.

"I love you, mama." I didn't have to look to know that Hans was kissing Alfred's cheek, and that Alfred was doing the same as well to Hans.

"I love you too, Hans. You're my son and I love you, you keep that in mind. Now, stop calling me mama, and let's wait for your daddy to come down with your aunts…"

_His_ son?

No…Hans is **mine**. I am his mother, he is my son. He's _my_ son; he's _my_ little saviour…not Alfred's…

It hurt so much. I couldn't bear it all.

I bit my lower lip hard so I could suppress my tears from flowing down freely. I didn't want that to happen, not in front of people I don't know. I quickly placed the present I brought onto the table, before I slipped past the crowd and went behind the chefs, trying to hide myself from everyone especially Alfred, who was ushering the kids to join in the tent so they could sing 'Happy Birthday' to Hans, who was then still carried in Alfred's arms. Hans was smiling widely, clearly a sign he was happy with what his parents could provide him with, and how amazing his family was.

The scene finally broke the dam in my eyes and I found myself crying in the end, no matter how hard I tried not to. While I was feeling content and somehow blissful to know that Hans was living in such a luxurious and joyful life with Hans and Alfred, to know that my own son didn't even know about me and who I really was to him…it simply hurt so much. And I would simply be a fool to myself if I didn't say such simple things didn't hurt me a lot…who wouldn't be if their own child didn't know you are their real parent?

I covered my mouth to muffle my cries from being heard, despite the streaming tears that I really could do nothing about. I sensed a few sets of eyes were looking at me nosily, but I took no heed. I quickly walked back to where the mansion stood, leaving the party behind me and went through the building. I headed straight to the front door, with nothing else in my mind but to leave this place and never return.

As I reached the gates, I swore I heard Ivan's voice faintly calling my name from behind. As much as I would love to slap him and blame him for not telling Hans about me over the years, the pended emotions I had kept was bursting out like a fountain inside me and I couldn't get into my fight mode. I had chosen the flight mode instead.

I got into my car and started the engine, and continued to drive off from this residential area, from this town. Even if my condition of crying and wailing on my own as I hit the wheel wasn't feasible for my health and safety, I didn't care. Like the many times before – being raped, losing my chance to share the joy of having Hans with Ivan, accused for causing Alfred's miscarriage, losing custody for my own son – this moment was one that I couldn't bear the stress and sorrow at all.

I knew I lost Hans completely that day. I was no one to him. Not a parent, not a family.

And he would never know who I really was to him for days and months and years to come.

Oh, God. It hurt so much.

This pain…how much longer can I take it? How much longer can I bear?

How much longer can I keep walking down that road?

.

.

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**A/N: **_Sorry for the month-long wait...but the chapters were gradually increasing in page size so it's not easy to type them quickly enough. And...please give a warm welcome to the angst. I know I had randomly put in some French words in this chapter, but I'm no expert in the language, so if my usage is wrong, please do correct me._  
_Five years had past since the last chapter, and from now on, the timeline would skip in years more than in days or in months. Also, I added something that might be controversial in this concerning the relationship between stress and anorexia nervosa...barely heard of, but it did happen. At least that was what I saw in my mother 12 years ago. I do not have any intention to mock the disease or the people suffering it, but if you do feel offended, I apologize._

_This story has now officially gone beyond the tenth chapter, over 85,000 words and 167 pages in my Documents. I assumed another three chapters would end this story, and the next chapter would be the story's climax. So let me__** thank all my readers for the support and positive criticism on this story**__, whether you had finish reading it to this point or had stopped midway for whatever reasons you have. I really appreciate it with all honesty._

_Ah, yes. Expect some angst in the next chapter._


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